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U N I V LR.S  ITY 
Of  ILLINOIS 

629c 13252 

G76I 

1916a 


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« 


LEARNING 
TO  FLY  . . 


IBRAftY 

Digitized  by  the  Internet  Archive 

in  'Mn,s 


https  ://arch  ive.org/detai  Is/learn  i ngtof  lypraOOg  rah 


SCHOOL  MACHINE  WELL  ALOFT. 


LEARNING  TO  FLY 


A PRACTICAL  MANUAL  FOR 
BEGINNERS 


BY 

CLAUDE  GRAHAME-WHITE 

AND 

HARRY  HARPER 


FULLY  ILLUSTRATED 


NEW  YORK 

THE  MACMILLAN  COMPANY 


PRINTED  IN  ENGLAND. 


CONTENTS 


CHAPTER  PAGE 

I.  Theories  of  Tuition  . . 9 

II.  Temperament  and  the  Airman  . 20 

III.  First  Experiences  with  an  Aero- 

plane   24 

(as  DESCRIBED  BY  MR.  GRAHAME- WHITE) 

IV.  The  Controlling  of  Latest-Type 

Craft 31 

V.  The  Stages  of  Tuition  ...  38 

VI.  The  Test  Flights  ....  53 

VII.  Perils  of  the  Air  ....  56 

VIII.  Factors  that  Make  for  Safety  . 76 

/ 

) IX.  A Study  of  the  Methods  of  Great 

Pilots  .....  82 

X.  Cross-Country  Flying  ...  92 

XI.  Aviation  as  a Profession  . . 99 

XII.  The  Future  of  Flight  , 104 


5 


ILLUSTRATIONS 

A School  Machine  well  Aloft  . . Frontispiece 


FACE  PAGE 

Grahame-White  School  Biplane  . . 34 

The  Controls  of  a School  Biplane  . . 36 

Rear  View  of  a School  Biplane  . . 38 

Power-plant  of  a School  Biplane  . . 40 

Motor  and  other  Gear — Another  View  . 42 

Pupil  and  Instructor  Ready  for  a Flight  44 
Pupil  and  Instructor  in  Flight  (i)  . . 46 

Pupil  and  Instructor  in  Flight  (2)  . . 48 

Pupil  and  Instructor  in  Flight  (3)  . . 50 


Authors'  Note. — The  photographs  to  illustrate  this  book,  as  set 
forth  above,  were  taken  at  the  Grahame-White  Flying  School, 
the  London  Aerodrome,  Hendon,  by  operators  of  the  Topical 
Press  Agency,  ioand  n,  Red  Lion  Court,  Fleet  Street,  London, 
E.C. 


6 


AUTHORS’  NOTE 


This  book  is  written  for  the  novice — and  for  the 
novice  who  is  completely  a novice.  We  have  assumed, 
in  writing  it,  that  it  will  come  into  the  hands  of  men 
who,  having  determined  to  enter  this  great  and  growing 
industry  of  aviation,  and  having  decided  wisely  to  learn 
to  fly  as  their  preliminary  step,  feel  they  would  like 
to  gain  beforehand — before,  that  is  to  say,  they  take 
the  plunge  of  selecting  and  joining  a flying  school — all 
that  can  be  imparted  non-technically,  and  in  such  a 
brief  manual  as  this,  not  only  as  to  the  stages  of  tuition 
and  the  tests  to  be  undergone,  but  also  in  regard  to 
such  general  questions  as,  having  once  turned  their 
thoughts  towards  flying,  they  take  a sudden  and  a 
very  active  interest. 

It  has  been  our  aim,  bearing  in  mind  this  first  and 
somewhat  restless  interest,  to  cover  a wide  rather 
than  a restricted  field  ; and  this  being  so,  and  remem- 
bering also  the  limitations  of  space,  we  cannot  pretend 
— and  do  not  for  a moment  wish  it  to  be  assumed  that 
we  pretend — to  cover  exhaustively  the  various  topics 
we  discuss.  Our  endeavour,  in  the  pages  at  our  dis- 
posal, has  not  been  to  satisfy  completely  this  first 
curiosity  of  the  novice,  but  rather  to  stimulate  and 
strengthen  it,  and  guide  it,  so  to  say,  on  lines  which  will 
lead  to  a fuller  and  more  detailed  research. 

It  is  from  this  point  of  view,  as  a short  yet  compre- 
hensive introduction,  and  particularly  as  an  aid  to  the 
beginner  in  his  choice  of  a school,  and  in  what  may  be 
called  his  mental  preparation  for  the  stages  of  his 
tuition,  that  we  desire  our  book  to  be  regarded. 

C.  G.-W. 

April,  1916.  H.  H. 

7 


LEARNING  TO  FLY 


CHAPTER  I 

THEORIES  OF  TUITION 

Only  eight  years  ago,  in  1908,  it  was  declared 
impossible  for  one  man  to  teach  another  to  fly..  Those 
few  men  who  had  risen  from  the  ground  in  aeroplanes, 
notably  the  Wright  brothers,  were  held  to  be  endowed 
by  nature  in  some  very  peculiar  way  ; to  be  men  who 
possessed  some  remarkable  and  hitherto  unexplained 
sense  of  equilibrium.  That  these  men  would  be  able 
to  take  other  men— ordinary  members  of  the  human 
race — and  teach  them  in  their  turn  to  navigate  the 
air,  was  a suggestion  that  was  ridiculed.  But  Wilbur 
Wright,  after  a series  of  brilliant  flights,  began  actually 
to  instruct  his  first  pupils ; doing  so  with  the  same 
care  and  precision,  and  the  same  success,  that  had 
characterised  all  his  pioneer  work.  And  these  first 
men  who  were  taught  to  fly  on  strange  machines — as 
apart  from  the  pioneers  who  had  taught  themselves 
to  fly  with  craft  of  their  own  construction — made 
progress  which  confounded  the  sceptics.  They  went 
in  easy  and  leisurely  fashion  from  stage  to  stage,  and 
learned  to  become  aviators  without  difficulty,  and 
mainly  without  accident. 

After  this,  increasing  in  numbers  from  two  or  three 
to  a dozen,  and  from  a dozen  to  fifty  and  then  a hundred, 
the  army  of  airmen  grew  until  it  could  be  totalled  in 
thousands.  Instead  of  being  haphazard,  the  teaching 

9 


10 


LEARNING  TO  FLY 


of  men  to  fly  became  a business.  Flying  schools  were 
established ; courses  of  tuition  were  arranged ; certain 
pilots  specialised  in  the  work  of  instruction.  It  was 
shown  beyond  doubt  that,  instead  of  its  being  necessary 
for  an  aviator  to  be  a species  of  acrobat,  any  average 
man  could  learn  to  fly. 

Certainly  a man  who  intends  to  fly  should  be  consti- 
tutionally sound  ; this  point  is  important.  When  in  an 
aeroplane,  one  passes  very  quickly  through  the  air,  and 
such  rapid  movement — and  also  the  effect  of  varying 
altitudes — entail  a certain  physical  strain.  A man  with 
a weak  heart  might  find  himself  affected  adversely 
by  flying ; while  one  whose  lungs  were  not  sound 
might  find  that  his  breathing  was  impeded  seriously 
by  a swift  passage  through  the  air.  More  than  one 
fatality,  doubtful  as  to  its  exact  cause,  has  been 
attributed  to  the  collapse  of  a pilot  who  was  not 
organically  sound,  or  who  ascended  when  in  poor 
health.  And  here  again  is  an  important  point.  No 
man,  even  a normally  healthy  man,  should  attempt  to 
pilot  a machine  in  flight  when  he  is  feeling  unwell.  In 
such  cases  the  strain  of  flying,  and  the  effect  of  the  swift 
motion  through  the  air,  may  cause  a temporary  col- 
lapse ; and  in  the  air,  when  a man  is  alone  in  a machine, 
any  slight  attack  of  faintness  may  be  sufficient  to  bring 
about  a fatality. 

A fair  judgment  of  speed,  and  an  eye  for  distance, 
are  very  helpful  to  the  man  who  would  learn  to  fly, 
and  it  is  here  that  a man  who  has  motored  a good  deal, 
driving  his  own  car,  is  at  advantage  at  first  over  one 
who  has  not.  But  otherwise,  and  writing  generally, 
any  man  of  average  quickness  of  movement,  of 
average  agility,  can  learn  without  difficulty  to  control 
an  aeroplane  in  flight.  It  is  wrong  to  imagine  that 
exceptional  men  are  required.  An  unusual  facility, 
of  course,  marks  the  expert  pilot ; but  we  are  writing 
of  men  who  would  attain  an  average  skill. 


THEORIES  OF  TUITION 


Ii 


There  has  been  discussion  as  to  the"  age  at  which  a 
man  should  learn  to  fly,  or  as  to  the  introduction  of  age 
limits  generally  in  the  piloting  of  aircraft.  But  this 
introduces  a difficult  question ; one  which  depends  so 
entirely  on  the  individual,  and  regarding  which  we  need 
the  data  that  will  be  provided  by  further  experience. 
Some  men  retain  from  year  to  year,  and  to  a remarkable 
extent,  the  faculties  that  are  necessary ; others  lose 
them  rapidly.  The  late  Mr.  S.  F.  Cody  was  flying 
constantly,  and  with  a very  conspicuous  skill,  at  an 
age  when  he  might  have  been  thought  unfit.  But  then 
he  was  a man  of  a rare  vitality  and  a great  enthusiasm — 
a man  who,  though  he  flew  so  often,  declared  that 
each  of  his  flights  was  an  “ adventure.”  Taking  men 
in  the  average  one  may  say  this  : the  younger  a man 
is,  when  he  learns  to  fly,  the  better  for  him.  Much 
depends,  naturally,  on  the  sort  of  flying  he  intends  to 
do  after  he  has  attained  proficiency.  If  he  is  going  to 
fly  in  war,  or  under  conditions  that  impose  a heavy 
strain,  then  he  must  be  a young  man.  But  if  he  intends 
to  fly  for  his  own  pleasure,  and  under  favourable  con- 
ditions, then  this  factor  of  age  loses  much  of  its  impor- 
tance, and  it  is  only  necessary  that  a man  should  retain 
say,  an  ordinary  activity,  and  a normal  quickness  of 
vision  and  of  judgment. 

Flying  is  not  difficult.  It  is  in  a sense  too  easy,  and 
this  is  just  where  its  hidden  danger  lies.  If  a pupil  is 
carefully  taught,  and  flies  at  first  only  when  the  weather 
conditions  are  suitable,  he  will  find  it  surprisingly 
easy  to  pilot  an  aeroplane.  That  it  is  not  dangerous 
to  learn  to  fly  is  proved  daily.  Though  hundreds 
and  thousands  of  pupils  have  now  passed  through 
the  schools,  anything  in  the  nature  of  a serious 
accident  is  very  rarely  chronicled.  This  immunity 
from  accident  is  due  largely  to  the  care  and  experience 
of  instructors,  and  also  to  the  fact  that  all  pupils  pass 
through  a very  carefully  graduated  tuition,  and  that  no 


12 


LEARNING  TO  FLY 


hazardous  flights  are  allowed ; while  another  and  an 
important  element  of  safety  lies  in  the  fact  that  no 
flying  is  permitted  at  the  schools  unless  weather  condi- 
tions are  favourable.  It  is  now  a fair  contention  that, 
provided  a man  exercises  judgment,  and  ascends  only 
in  weather  that  is  reasonably  suitable,  there  is  no  more 
danger  in  flying  an  aeroplane  than  in  driving  a motor- 
car. 

Much  depends  of  course  on  the  dexterity  of  the 
pupil,  and  particularly  on  his  manual  dexterity — on 
what  is  known,  colloquially,  as  " hands.”  Some  men, 
even  after  they  have  been  carefully  taught,  are  apt 
to  remain  heavy  and  clumsy  in  their  control.  Others, 
though,  seem  to  acquire  the  right  touch  almost  by 
instinct ; and  these  are  the  men  who  have  in  them 
the  making  of  good  pilots.  Horsemen  refer  to  “ hands  ” 
when  they  speak  of  a man  who  rides  well ; and  in 
flying,  if  a man  is  to  handle  a machine  skilfully,  there 
is  need  for  that  same  instinctive  delicacy  of  touch. 

Nowadays,  when  a pupil  joins  a well-established 
flying  school,  he  finds  that  everything  is  made  easy 
and  pleasant  for  him.  Most  men  enjoy  very  thoroughly 
the  period  of  their  tuition.  A friendly  regard  springs 
up  between  the  pupils  and  their  instructors,  and 
men  who  have  learned  to  fly,  and  are  now  expert  pilots, 
bear  with  them  very  pleasant  reminiscences  of  their 
“ school  ” days.  But  there  were  times,  and  it  seems 
already  in  the  dim  and  distant  past,  when  learning 
to  fly  was  a strange,  haphazard,  and  hardly  pleasant 
experience  ; though  it  had  a sporting  interest  certainly, 
and  offered  such  prospects  of  adventure  as  commended 
it  to  bold  spirits  who  were  prepared  for  hardship,  and 
had  a well-filled  purse.  The  last  requirement  was  very 
necessary.  In  the  bad  old  days,  amusing  days  though 
they  were  without  doubt,  no  fixed  charge  was  made 
to  cover  such  breakages,  or  damage  to  an  aeroplane,  as 
a pupil  might  be  guilty  of  during  his  period  of  instruction. 


THEORIES  OF  TUITION 


13 


These  items  of  damage — broken  propellers,  planes,  or 
landing  gear — were  all  entered  up  very  carefully  on 
special  bills,  and  presented  from  time  to  time  to  the 
dismayed  novice ; and  a man  who  was  clumsy  or 
impetuous  found  learning  to  fly  an  expensive  affair. 
There  was  a pupil  who  joined  a school  soon  after 
Bleriot’s  crossing  of  the  Channel  by  air.  It  was  a 
monoplane  school ; and  the  monoplane,  unless  a 
man  is  careful  and  very  patient,  is  not  an  easy  machine 
to  learn  to  fly.  This  beginner  was  not  patient ; he 
was  indeed  more  than  usually  impetuous.  His  landings, 
in  particular,  were  often  abrupt.  He  broke  propellers, 
frequently,  to  say  nothing  of  wings  and  of  alighting 
gear.  And  of  all  these  breakages  a note  was  made. 
Bills  were  handed  to  him — long  and  intricate  bills,  with 
each  item  amounting  to  so  many  hundreds  of  francs. 
Having  a sense  of  humour,  the  pupil  began  to  paper 
his  shed  with  these  formidable  bills,  allowing  them  to 
hang  in  festoons  around  the  walls.  What  it  cost  him  to 
learn  to  fly  nobody  except  himself  knew.  He  paid 
away  certainly,  in  his  bills  for  breakages,  enough  money 
to  buy  several  aeroplanes. 

This  was  in  the  early  days,  when  aviators  were  few 
and  all  flying  schools  experimental.  To-day  a pupil 
need  not  concern  himself,  even  if  he  does  damage  a 
machine.  Before  beginning  his  tuition  he  pays  his 
fee,  one  definite  sum  which  covers  all  contingencies 
that  may  arise.  It  includes  any  and  all  damage 
that  he  may  do  to  the  aircraft  of  his  instructors ; 
it  covers  also  any  third-party  claims  that  may  be  made 
against  him — claims  that  is  to  say  from  any  third 
person’ who  might  be  injured  in  an  accident  for  which 
he  was  responsible.  This  inclusive  fee  varies,  in  schools 
of  repute,  from  £75  to  £100  ~ 

The  modern  aerodromes,  or  schools  of  flight,  at 
which  a pupil  receives  his  tuition,  have  been  evolved 
rapidly  from  the  humblest  of  beginnings.  The  first 


14 


LEARNING  TO  FLY 


flying  grounds  were,  as  a rule,  nothing  more  than  open 
tracts  of  land,  such  as  offered  a fairly  smooth  landing- 
place  and  an  absence  of  dangerous  wind-gusts.  Then, 
as  aviation  developed,  pilots  came  together  at  these 
grounds,  and  sheds  were  built  to  house  their  craft. 
And  after  this,  quickly  as  a rule,  an  organisation  was 
built  up.  Beginning  from  rough  shelters,  erected  hastily 
on  the  brink  of  a stretch  of  open  land,  there  grew  row 
upon  row  of  neatly-built  sheds,  with  workshops  near 
them  in  which  aircraft  could  be  constructed  or  repaired. 
And  from  this  stage,  not  content  with  the  provision 
made  for  them  by  nature,  those  in  control  of  the  aero- 
dromes began  to  dig  up  trees,  fill  in  ditches  and  hollows, 
and  smooth  away  rough  contours  of  the  land,  so  as  to 
obtain  a huge,  smooth  expanse  on  which  aircraft  might 
alight  and  manoeuvre  without  accident.  And  after 
this  came  the  building  up  of  fences  and  entrance  gates, 
the  erection  of  executive  offices  and  restaurants,  the 
provision  of  telephone  exchanges  and  other  facilities — 
the  creation  in  fact  of  a modem  aerodrome. 

A pupil  to-day,  if  he  decides  to  learn  to  fly,  finds 
he  has  an  ample  choice  in  the  matter  of  a school. 

He  may  feel  indeed  that  there  is  almost  an  embarrass- 
ment of  facilities.  But  there  are  certain  very  definite 
requirements,  in  regard  to  any  modem  flying  school ; 
and  if  a novice  bears  these  in  mind,  and  thinks  of  them 
carefully  when  he  is  considering  what  school  he  shall 
join,  he  cannot  go  far  wrong.  First  there  is  the  question 
of  the  aerodrome  on  which,  and  above  which,  the  pupil  / 
will  undergo  his  instruction.  This  should  be  of  ample 
size  and  of  an  adequately  smooth  surface ; and  it 
should  be  so  situated,  also,  that  it  is  free  from  wind 
eddies  and  gusts,  such  as  are  set  up  by  hills,  woods, 
or  contours  of  the  land,  and  are  likely  to  inconvenience 
a novice  when  he  makes  his  first  flights.  The  best 
position  for  an  aerodrome  is  in  a valley,  not  abrupt  but 
gently  sloping.  With  a flying  ground  so  placed, 


THEORIES  OF  TUITION 


15 


shielded  well  by  nature  on  every  hand,  it  may  prove 
sufficiently  calm  for  instruction  even  on  days  when  there 
is  a gusty  wind  blowing  across  more  exposed  points ; 
and  such  a natural  advantage  is  of  importance  for  a 
pupil.  It  may  mean  that  he  is  obtaining  his  tuition 
from  day  to  day,  when  other  pupils,  learning  to  fly 
at  grounds  less  favourably  situated,  have  to  remain 
compulsorily  idle,  waiting  either  for  the  wind  to  drop, 
or  to  veer  to  some  quarter  from  which  their  aerodrome 
is  sheltered. 

It  is  very  necessary,  of  course,  in  the  operation 
of  a flying  school,  that  there  should  be  competent 
instructors  ; also  a sufficient  number  of  these  to  prevent 
them  from  being  over-taxed,  or  having  more  pupils 
at  any  one  time  than  they  can  handle  conveniently. 
And  it  is  greatly  to  the  advantage  of  a pupil  if  these 
instructors  have  been  chosen  with  an  intelligent  care. 
A man  may  be  a capable  pilot,  and  yet  not  have  the 
temperament  that  will  suit  him  for  imparting  his 
knowledge  to  others.  The  instructor  who,  besides 
being  a fine  flyer,  has  the  patience  and  sympathy  of  a 
born  teacher,  is  by  no  means  easy  to  find.  A school 
which  does  find  such  men,  and  retains  their  services, 
offers  attractions  for  a pupil  which — in  any  preliminary 
visit  he  pays  to  a school  before  joining  it — he  should 
look  for  keenly.  And  he  should  make  certain,  too, 
that  the  school  has  a staff  of  skilled  and  experienced 
mechanics. 

Another  indispensable  feature  of  a school  is  a sufficient 
number  of  aeroplanes,  machines  suited  specially  for 
the  purposes  of  tuition,  and  maintained  at  a high 
efficiency.  It  has  been  no  uncommon  thing — though 
here  again  one  is  writing  of  the  past — for  the  total 
resources  of  a school  to  comprise,  say,  two  machines. 
Hence  a couple  of  smashes  would  put  such  a school 
temporarily  out  of  action,  and  leave  the  pupils  with 
nothing  to  do  but  kick  their  heels,  and  wait  until  the 


i6 


LEARNING  TO  FLY 


machines  had  been  repaired.  It  is  certainly  an  ad- 
vantage, from  the  pupil’s  point  of  view,  if  there  are 
well-equipped  workshops  in  connection  with  the  school 
he  joins  ; also  if  the  proprietors  of  his  school  have  an 
ample  supply  of  engines.  With  facilities  for  repair 
work  immediately  at  hand,  and  with  a spare  engine 
ready  at  once  to  put  in  a machine — while  one  that 
has  been  giving  trouble  is  dealt  with  in  the  engine- 
shop — there  should  always  be  a full  complement  of 
craft  for  the  work  of  instruction.  When  workshops  are 
in  operation  in  connection  with  a school  an  opportunity 
is  usually  provided,  also,  for  a novice  to  gain  some 
knowledge  as  to  the  mechanism  and  working  of  the 
aero-motor  : and  this  of  course  will  be  useful  to  him. 

There  has  been  discussion  as  to  the  type  of  aeroplane 
on  which  one  should  learn  to  fly  ; but  in  this  question, 
as  in  that  of  an  age  limit  for  airmen,  it  is  extremely 
difficult,  besides  being  unwise,  to  attempt  to  frame  a 
hard-and-fast  rule.  The  monoplane,  for  instance, 
is  not  an  easy  machine  to  learn  to  fly  : it  is  not  easy, 
that  is  to  say,  compared  with  certain  types  of  biplane. 
Yet  numbers  of  pupils  have  been  taught  on  monoplanes, 
and  this  without  accident.  There  is  also  a question 
whether,  among  biplanes,  it  is  best  to  learn  on  a tractor 
machine — one  that  is  to  say  with  the  engine  in  front 
of  the  main  planes — or  on  a “ pusher  ” type  of  craft ; 
this  last  mentioned  having  its  motor  behind  the  planes. 
Aeroplanes  of  both  types  are  in  use ; and  it  would 
be  advantageous,  of  course,  for  a novice  to  accustom 
himself  to  handle  either.  But  from  the  point  of  view 
of  those  who  operate  large  flying  schools,  and  have 
to  weigh  one  point  against  another,  and  eliminate  so 
far  as  possible  the  elements  of  risk  or  difficulty,  there 
are  very  distinct  advantages  in  a “ pusher  ” biplane, 
such  as  is  illustrated  facing  page  34.  The  control 
of  such  a machine  is  simple,  and  can  be  grasped  quite 
readily.  It  provides  the  novice,  when  he  is  seated  in  it, 


THEORIES  OF  TUITION 


17 


with  a clear  and  unobstructed  view  of  the  ground 
immediately  in  front  of  and  below  him ; and  this, 
in  the  early  stages  of  tuition,  is  an  extremely  important 
point.  A craft  of  such  a type,  also,  when  built 
j specially  for  instruction,  can  be  given  a very  strong 
alighting  gear,  and  this  makes  for  safety  when  a pupil 
is  in  his  first  tests,  and  may  be  guilty  of  an  abrupt  or 
1 rough  descent.  Again,  while  such  a school  machine 
j as  this  is  engined  adequately,  it  is  at  the  same  time 
\ comparatively  slow  in  flight,  and  has  the  advantage 
I also  that  it  will  alight  at  slow  speeds.  In  the  air, 
too,  it  has  a large  measure  of  stability,  and  is  not  too 
rapid  in  its  response  to  its  controls.  It  gives  a pupil 
what  is  very  necessary  for  him  in  his  first  flights,  and 
that  is  a certain  latitude  for  error.  It  is  safe  to  say, 
indeed,  without  being  dogmatic,  that  a “ pusher  ” 
biplane  of  the  type  illustrated,  if  constructed  specially 
for  school  work,  offers  a pupil  two  very  clearly  marked 
advantages.  These  are  : (1)  A craft  which  he  can 
. learn  to  fly  quickly  ; and  (2)  A machine  on  which  he 
: can  pass  through  his  tuition  with  the  least  risk  of 
j accident. 

This  last-mentioned  point  is,  naturally,  one  of  ex- 
treme importance.  It  is  very  necessary,  apart  from 
any  question  of  personal  injury,  that  a pupil  should  be 
protected  during  his  tuition  from  anything  in  the  nature 
of  a bad  smash.  A man  should  start  to  learn  to  fly 
with  full  confidence ; the  more  he  has  the  better, 
provided  it  is  tempered  with  caution.  And  if  he  can 
go  through  his  training  without  accident,  and  preserve 
the  steadily  growing  confidence  that  his  proficiency 
will  give  him,  he  is  on  the  high  road  to  success  as  a 
pilot.  But  if  he  meets  with  an  accident  while  he  is 
learning — some  sudden  and  quite  unexpected  fall — 
this  may  have  a serious  and  a permanent  influence 
on  his  nerves,  even  if  he  escapes  without  injury.  It 
; happened  frequently  in  the  early  days  that  a promising 


i8 


LEARNING  TO  FLY 


pupil,  a man  who  showed  both  confidence  and  skill, 
had  his  nerve  ruined,  and  all  his  “ dash  ” taken  from 
him,  by  some  unlucky  accident  while  he  was  learning 
to  fly. 

There  are  certain  minor  points  a pupil  should  con- 
sider when  he  selects  a flying  school — points  which 
have  reference  mainly  to  his  own  comfort  and  con- 
venience. He  will  prefer,  for  instance,  other  things 
being  equal,  a school  that  is  near  some  large  town 
or  city,  and  not  buried  away  inaccessibly.  It  is  a con- 
venience also,  and  one  that  facilitates  instruction, 
if  a pupil  can  obtain,  quite  near  the  aerodrome,  rooms 
where  he  can  live  temporarily  while  undergoing  his 
instruction,  and  so  be  able  to  reach  the  flying  ground 
in  a minute  or  so,  whenever  and  at  any  time  the  weather 
conditions  are  favourable.  It  is  a convenience  again 
if,  either  on  the  aerodrome  itself  or  immediately  ad- 
jacent, there  is  a canteen  or  restaurant  where  meals 
and  other  refreshments  can  be  obtained.  Dressing- 
rooms  and  reading  rooms,  when  provided  by  the  pro- 
prietors of  a school,  add  to  the  comfort  of  the  novice  j j 
while  he  is  in  attendance  on  the  aerodrome.  In  winter,  i 
particularly,  such  facilities  are  required. 

At  a modern  school,  if  it  is  well  conducted,  all 
heroics  or  exceptional  feats  are  discouraged.  Pupils  j 
who  want  to  do  wild  things  must  be  sternly  repressed, 
even  if  only  for  the  common  good.  The  aim  is  to  train  « 
a certain  number  of  pupils,  not  hastening  over  the  ! 
tuition  but  giving  each  man  his  full  and  complete  j 
course,  and  to  do  this  with  a minimum  of  risk.  Ir  1 
the  early  days  of  flying  there  were  remarkable  exploits  3 
at  the  schools,  and  some  very  dangerous  ones  also,  . 
But  nowadays  the  reckless,  happy-go-lucky  spirit  has ; 
gone.  Tuition  is  based  on  experience.  Each  pupi'  1 
must  submit  to  the  routine,  and  listen  attentively  t<  o 
the  instructions  given  him.  There  are  no  short  cuts—  - 
not  at  any  rate  with  safety — in  the  art  of  learning  to  fly  (. 


THEORIES  OF  TUITION 


19 


The  question  is  asked,  often,  how  long  it  should  take 
a man  to  learn  to  fly.  It  is  almost  impossible,  though, 
to  specify  any  fixed  time.  A very  great  deal  must 
depend  on  the  weather.  A pupil  who  joins  a school 
in  the  summer  is  more  likely,  naturally,  to  complete 
his  tuition  quickly  than  one  who  begins  in  the  winter. 
In  periods  when  there  are  high  and  gusty  winds  it 
may  be  necessary  to  suspend  school  work  for  several 
days.  But  at  such  times  the  pupil  need  not  be  com- 
pletely idle.  Lectures  on  aviation  are  organised  some- 
times by  the  schools  ; while  a pupil  should  have  oppor- 
tunities also — as  has  been  mentioned  before — of  going 
into  the  engine-shop  and  studying  the  repair  and  over- 
haul of  motors  and  machines. 

It  is  on  record  that  a pupil  has  learned  to  fly  in  a day, 
even  in  a few  hours  ; but  here  the  circumstances,  and 
the  men,  were  exceptional.  Such  an  unusual  facility 
represents  one  extreme ; while  as  another,  it  may 
happen  that  a man,  owing  to  a combination  of  adverse 
circumstances,  is  six  months  before  he  gains  his 
certificate  of  proficiency.  It  may  be  taken,  as  a rule, 
that  a pupil  should  set  aside  say  a couple  of  months 
in  order  to  undergo  thoroughly,  and  without  any  haste, 
his  full  period  of  tuition.  School  records  prove,  as  a 
rule,  that  the  pilots  who  learn  to  fly  abnormally  quickly 
are  apt  to  experience  an  abnormal  number  of  accidents 
at  a later  date,  due  principally  to  a lack  of  real  sound 
knowledge,  which  they  should  have  gained  during  the 
period  of  their  tuition.  One  must  learn  to  walk  before 
one  can  run,  and  this  takes  time ; and  the  remark 
applies  aptly  to  aviation.  It  is  very  necessary  for  the 
pupil  to  spend  as  much  time  as  he  can  on  the  aero- 
drome. Much  is  to  be  learned,  by  an  observant  man, 
apart  from  the  actual  time  during  which  he  is  engaged 
with  his  instructor.  If  he  watches  men  who  are 
highly  skilled,  he  may  gain  many  useful  hints,  though 
he  himself  is  on  the  ground. 


CHAPTER  II 


TEMPERAMENT  AND  THE  AIRMAN 

As  aviation  passed  from  its  earliest  infancy,  and  a 
number  of  men  began  to  fly,  the  temperament  of  the 
individual  pupil,  and  the  effect  of  this  temperament 
on  his  progress  as  an  aviator,  began  to  reveal  itself. 
And  temperament  does  play  a large  part  in  flying ; 
as  it  does  in  any  sport  in  which  a man  is  given  control 
of  a highly  sensitive  apparatus,  errors  of  judgment  in 
the  handling  of  which  may  lead  to  disaster.  It  is  not, 
as  a rule,  until  he  has  passed  through  his  early  stages 
of  tuition,  and  has  begun  to  handle  an  aeroplane  alone, 
and  is  beyond  the  direct  control  of  his  instructor,  that 
the  temperament  of  a pupil  really  plays  its  part.  Up 
to  this  point  he  is  one  among  many,  conforming  to 
certain  rules,  and  obliged  to  mould  himself  to  the 
routine  of  the  school.  But  when  he  begins  to  fly  by  him- 
self, and  particularly  when  he  has  passed  his  tests  for 
proficiency,  and  is  embarking,  say,  on  cross-country 
flights,  then  this  question  of  temperament  begins  really 
to  affect  his  flying. 

All  men  who  learn  to  fly — numbering  as  they  do 
thousands  nowadays — cannot  be  endowed  specially 
by  nature  for  their  task.  There  is  indeed  a wide  lati- 
tude for  temperamental  differences — always  provided 
that  nothing  more  is  required  of  a man  than  a certain 
average  of  skill.  But  if  a man  is  to  become  a first- 
class  pilot,  one  distinctly  above  the  average,  then  the 
question  of  his  temperament,  as  it  influences  his  flying, 
is  certainly  important. 


20 


TEMPERAMENT  AND  THE  AIRMAN  21 

>'  A rough  classification  of  the  pupils  at  a school — 

■ just  a preliminary  sorting  of  types — shows  as  a rule 
the  existence  of  two  clearly-marked  temperaments. 
One  is  that  of  the  man  who  is  deliberate,  whose  tem- 
perament guards  him  from  doing  anything  perfunctorily 
or  in  a hurry ; the  other  is  that  of  a man — a type 
frequently  encountered  nowadays— who  while  being 
quick,  keen,  and  intelligent,  mars  these  good  qualities 
by  a temperamental  impatience  which  he  finds  it 
difficult  or  impossible  to  control,  and  which  makes 
him  irritable  and  restless  at  any  suggestion  of  delay. 

Now  the  first  of  these  men  need  not  to  be  wholly 
commended,  nor  the  second  entirely  condemned.  A 
capacity  for  deliberation,  both  in  study  and  in  practice, 
is  very  useful  when  learning  to  fly.  It  will  protect 
a man  from  many  errors,  and  render  his  progress  sure, 
though  it  may  be  slow.  But  something  more  than 
deliberation  is  required  in  the  aviator  of  distinction. 
There  must  be  the  vital  spark  of  enterprise,  the  tem- 
peramental quality  which  is  known  as  “ dash,”  the 
quick  action  of  the  mind,  in  difficulty  or  peril,  that  will 
carry  certain  men  to  safety  through  many  dangers. 
This  imaginative  power  is  possessed  as  a rule,  though 
in  ways  that  differ  considerably,  by  the  second  type  of 
pupil  we  have  described — the  restless,  impatient  man. 
But  in  his  case  this  quality  is,  more  often  than  not, 
marred  by  his  instability ; by  the  lack  of  that  judg- 
ment which  is  so  necessary  to  counterbalance  imagin- 
ation, but  which  is,  unfortunately,  not  so  often  found. 

A man  who  decides  to  become  an  aviator,  and 
particularly  if  he  intends  to  fly  professionally,  should 
ask  himself  quite  seriously  if  his  temperament  is  likely 
to  aid  him,  or  whether  perhaps  it  may  not  be  a danger. 
This  point  is  certainly  one  of  importance,  though  it 
cannot  be  stated  directly  or  decided  in  so  many  words. 
There  is  a vital  question  at  least  that  the  novice  should 
ask  himself ; and  this  is  whether  his  temperament. 


22 


LEARNING  TO  FLY 


whatever  its  general  tendency  may  be,  includes  a 
sufficient  leavening  of  caution.  In  the  navigation  of 
the  air  caution  is  indispensable.  A pupil  must  remind 
himself  constantly  that,  though  it  appears  easy — and 
is  indeed  easy — to  learn  to  handle  a machine  in  flight, 
no  liberties  must  under  any  circumstances  be  taken 
with  the  air.  Every  instant  a man  is  flying  he  needs 
to  remember  the  value  of  caution.  In  the  air  one 
cannot  afford  to  make  mistakes. 

Naturally  there  is  an  ideal  temperament  for  flying ; 
but  it  is  one  which,  owing  to  the  combination  of  qualities 
that  are  required,  is  very  rarely  met  with.  The  man 
who  possesses  it  is  gifted  with  courage,  ambition, 
“ dash,”  and  with  a readiness  in  an  emergency  that 
amounts  to  intuition.  And  yet  these  positive  qualities 
are,  in  the  ideal  temperament,  allied  to,  and  tempered 
by,  a strong  vein  of  prudence  and  of  caution.  The 
pilot  has  absolute  system,  method,  and  thoroughness 
in  everything  he  does.  The  average  pupil  cannot 
hope  to  be  so  luckily  endowed.  But  he  can  study  his 
personality,  and  seek  to  repress  traits  that  may  seem 
harmful. 

There  is  need  in  flying  for  a sound  judgment,  one 
that  will  enable  a man  to  come  to  a decision  quickly 
and  yet  accurately.  Things  happen  rapidly  in  the  air. 
It  is  one  of  the  grim  aspects  of  flying  that,  just  at  a 
moment  when  everything  appears  secure,  a sudden 
disaster  may  threaten.  So  it  is  of  vast  importance 
to  a pilot,  if  he  has  to  fly  regularly,  that  he  should  have 
an  instinctive  and  dependable  judgment ; a capacity 
for  deciding  quickly  and  without  panic ; a capacity, 
when  several  ways  present  themselves  of  extricating 
himself  from  some  quandary,  of  being  able  to  choose 
the  right  one,  and  of  not  having  to  think  long  before 
doing  so.  This  implies  a combination  really  of  judg- 
ment and  resource.  The  man  of  confidence,  the  man 
of  resource,  is  well  endowed  for  flying.  But  he  must 


TEMPERAMENT  AND  THE  AIRMAN  23 

f not  be  over-confident.  The  over-confident  man  is  a 
menace  to  himself  and  to  others.  It  is  not  a proper 
spirit  at  all  in  which  to  approach  aviation.  We  do 
not  know  enough  about  the  navigation  of  the  air  to 
be  in  the  least  over-confident.  The  spirit,  rather, 
should  be  one  of  humility — a determination  to  proceed 
warily,  and  to  make  very  certain  of  what  limited 
knowledge  we  do  possess. 

Two  of  the  worst  traits  in  an  aviator  are  impatience 
and  irritability.  A man  who  has  these  temperamental 
drawbacks  in  a form  which  is  strongly  marked,  and 
who  cannot  control  them,  should  not  think  of  becoming 
an  aviator.  The  man  who  is  impatient  and  irritable 
finds  himself  out  of  harmony  with  the  whole  theory  of 
aerial  navigation.  There  is  a long  list  of  “ don’ts  ” 
in  flying ; in  the  handling  of  one’s  machine,  in  the 
weather  one  flies  in,  in  all  the  feats  that  one  should 
attempt  and  leave  alone.  A number  of  details  must  be 
memorised,  and  must  never  be  forgotten  or  over- 
looked, trivial  though  some  of  them  may  seem.  The 
frame  of  mind  of  the  man  who  flies  must  be  alert,  yet 
quiet  and  reposeful ; he  must  be  clear-headed,  not  hot- 
headed. The  man  who  is  in  a hurry,  who  ignores 
details  when  he  sets  out  on  a flight,  is  the  man  who  runs 
risks  and  is  bound  sooner  or  later  to  pay  the  penalty. 
The  perils  of  recklessness  in  flying  are  very  great.  The 
man  who  “ takes  chances,”  who  thinks  he  can  do  some- 
thing when,  as  a matter  of  fact,  he  has  neither  sufficient 
knowledge  or  experience,  runs  a very  grave  and  con- 
stant risk.  It  is  the  thoughtful,  considering  frame  of 
mind,  particularly  in  a pupil,  which  is  the  safe  one ; 
but  this  must  not  be  taken  to  imply  a type  of  man  who 
lacks  power  of  action.  Initiative,  and  a quick  capacity 
for  action,  are  most  necessary  in  aviation.  New 
problems  are  being  faced  continually,  and  the  brain 
succeeds  which  is  the  most  active  and  original. 


CHAPTER  III 


FIRST  EXPERIENCES  WITH  AN  AEROPLANE 

(AS  DESCRIBED  BY  MR.  GRAHAME- WHITE) 

After  a period  of  ballooning,  which  offers  experience 
for  an  aviator  In  the  judging  of  heights  and  distances, 
and  in  growing  accustomed  to  the  sensation  of  being 
in  the  air,  I devoted  a good  deal  of  time  and  attention 
— more  indeed  at  the  time,  and  in  view  of  my  other 
responsibilities,  than  I could  reasonably  spare — to  a 
study  of  the  theory  of  aeroplane  construction,  and  to 
the  making  of  models.  This  was  prior  to  1909 ; Bleriot 
had  not  yet  flown  the  Channel  in  his  monoplane.  But 
when  he  did  I put  models  aside,  and  determined  to 
buy  an  aeroplane  and  learn  to  fly. 

At  the  end  of  August,  1909,  so  that  I might  inspect 
the  various  aeroplanes  that  were  then  available,  and 
they  were  few  enough,  I went  to  Rheims,  in  France, 
and  attended  the  first  flying  meeting  the  world  had 
seen.  At  the  aerodrome  I met  and  talked  with  the 
great  pioneers : with  Bleriot,  fresh  from  his  cross- 
Channel  triumph ; with  Levavasseur,  the  designer  of 
the  beautiful  but  ill-fated  Antoinette  monoplane, 
which  had,  through  engine  failure,  let  Hubert  Latham 
twice  into  the  Channel  during  his  attempts  to  make  the 
crossing  ; with  Henry  Farman  who,  fitting  one  of  the 
first  Gnome  motors  to  a biplane  of  of  his  own  construc- 
tion, flew  for  more  than  three  hours  at  Rheims,  and 
created  a world’s  record ; and  also  with  M.  Voisin, 
whose  biplane  was  then  being  flown  by  a number  of 
pilots. 


24 


FIRST  EXPERIENCES 


25 


Finally,  after  careful  consideration,  I made  a contract 
with  M.  Bleriot  to  purchase  from  him,  at  the  end  of  the 
meeting,  a monoplane  of  a type  that  appeared  first  at 
Rheims,  and  of  which  there  was  not  another  model 
then  in  existence.  This  machine  differed  considerably 
from  the  one  with  which  M.  Bleriot  had  flown  the 
Channel.  His  cross-Channel  monoplane  was  a single- 
seated  craft  fitted  with  an  air-cooled  motor  of  about 
25  h.p.  The  machine  I agreed  to  buy  at  Rheims,  and 
which  was  known  as  Bleriot  No.  XII.,  would  carry 
two  people,  pilot  and  passenger,  while  it  had  an 
8-cylinder  water-cooled  motor  developing  60  h.p. — an 
exceptional  power  in  those  days.  The  position  of  the 
occupants,  as  they  sat  in  the  machine,  differed  from 
the  arrangement  in  the  cross-Channel  Bleriot.  In  the 
latter  the  pilot  sat  in  a hull  placed  between  the  planes, 
and  with  his  head  and  shoulders  above  them.  But  in 
this  new  and  larger  machine  the  pilot  and  passenger 
sat  in  seats  which  were  placed  below  the  planes. 

The  craft  was,  as  a matter  of  fact,  an  experiment, 
being  built  almost  purely  for  speed  ; hence  its  powerful 
motor.  M.  Bleriot’s  idea,  in  constructing  it,  was  to 
have  a machine  with  which  he  might  win  the  Gordon- 
Bennett  international  speed  race  at  Rheims.  But  this 
hope  he  did  not  realise ; nor  did  I obtain  delivery  of 
the  craft  I desired.  Bleriot,  flying  alone  in  this  big 
monoplane,  started  in  a speed  flight  for  the  Gordon- 
Bennett ; but  he  was  only  a quarter  of  the  way  round 
the  course,  on  his  second  lap,  when  the  machine  was 
seen  to  break  suddenly  into  flames  and  crash  to  the 
ground  from  a height  of  100  feet.  It  was  wrecked 
entirely,  but  Bleriot  was  fortunate  enough  to  escape 
with  nothing  worse  than  burns  about  the  face  and 
hands,  and  a general  shock.  The  cause  of  the  accident 
was  that  an  indiarubber  tube,  fixed  temporarily  to 
carry  petrol  from  the  tank  to  the  carburettor,  had 
been  eaten  through  and  had  permitted  petrol  to  leak 


26  LEARNING  TO  FLY 

out,  and  to  ignite,  on  the  hot  exhaust  pipes  of  the 
motor. 

The  destruction  of  this  monoplane  was,  to  me,  a 
great  disappointment.  No  other  machine  of  the  type 
was  in  existence,  and  I learned  that  it  would  take 
three  months  to  build  one.  M.  Bleriot  promised, 
however,  to  put  a machine  in  hand  at  once  ; and,  as  a 
special  concession,  I obtained  permission  to  go  daily 
to  the  Bleriot  factory  and  superintend  the  construction 
of  my  own  machine.  This  I did  for  a full  period  of 
three  months,  working  daily  from  6 a.m.  to  6 p.m., 
and  gaining  some  valuable  knowledge  as  to  aeroplane 
construction. 

On  November  6,  1909,  after  delays  which  had  tried 
my  patience  sorely,  I obtained  delivery  of  the  new 
machine — a replica  of  the  craft  that  had  been  destroyed 
at  Rheims.  It  was  too  late  that  day  to  begin  any 
trials,  so  I and  a friend  who  was  with  me  arranged  with 
M.  Bleriot’s  mechanics  that  we  would  be  at  Issy-les- 
Moulineaux  early  next  morning,  and  there  put  the 
craft  through  its  preliminary  tests.  I can  remember 
we  went  to  bed  early,  but  sleep  was  impossible ; we 
were  both  too  excited  at  the  prospect  that  lay  before 
us.  So  presently  we  got  up — this  was  at  2 a.m. — and 
drove  out  to  the  flying  ground. 

It  was  pitch  dark  when  we  arrived  at  the  aerodrome, 
but  the  morning  promised  to  be  favourable.  Foggy 
it  was ; but  there  was  no  wind,  and  the  fog  seemed 
likely  to  clear.  We  roused  the  caretaker,  and,  after 
lengthy  explanations  and  considerable  monetary  per- 
suasion, induced  him  to  open  the  shed  and  allow 
us  to  prepare  the  machine  for  its  first  flight.  Then 
we  waited  for  the  mechanics  and  the  first  rays  of 
dawn.  We  felt  a desire  to  get  the  big  engine  started 
up,  but  had  been  warned  of  the  risk  of  doing  this  with- 
out the  help  of  mechanics.  Time  passed  and  still  the 
mechanics  did  not  come.  At  last,  there  being  now 


FIRST  EXPERIENCES 


27 


sufficient  light,  we  tied  the  aeroplane  with  ropes  to 
a fence,  so  as  to  prevent  its  leaping  forward,  and  then 
started  up  the  motor  by  ourselves.  I swung  the 
nine-foot  propeller — the  only  way  of  starting  the 
engine  ; and  at  the  first  quarter-turn  the  motor  began 
to  hre.  Then,  as  is  quite  usual,  there  was  an  incident 
that  had  been  unforeseen  in  our  excitement.  We 
had  forgotten  to  take  up  the  slack  of  the  rope ; and 
the  consequence  was  that,  as  the  engine  started,  the 
machine  gave  a bound  forward  that  was  sufficient  to 
knock  me  down.  But  I was  unhurt,  and  picked  myself 
up  quickly.  Then  I hurried  round  to  the  driving  seat 
and  took  my  place  at  the  control  levers,  motioning 
to  my  friend,  who  was  looking  after  the  ropes,  to  cast 
these  loose  and  jump  into  the  seat  beside  me.  This 
was  easier  said  than  done.  Directly  he  released  the 
ropes  the  machine  began  to  move  across  the  ground, 
gathering  speed  very  quickly  ; but  he  managed  some- 
how, before  the  machine  was  running  too  fast,  to 
scramble  into  the  seat  beside  me. 

Off  we  started  across  the  aerodrome,  the  monoplane 
gaining  a speed  of  40  or  50  miles  an  hour.  I did  not 
attempt  to  rise  from  the  ground,  feeling  it  very 
necessary  at  first  to  grow  familiar  with  the  controls. 
So  we  sped  along  the  ground  for  a distance  of  about  a 
mile.  Then,  on  nearing  the  far  end,  I slowed  down  the 
motor  and  our  speed  dropped  ta  about  20  miles  an 
hour.  I wanted  to  turn  the  machine  round  on  the 
ground  and  run  back  again  towards  our  starting  point. 
But  such  a manoeuvre,  particularly  for  the  novice, 
is  far  from  easy.  As  the  speed  of  the  machine  is 
reduced,  the  pressure  of  air  on  the  rudder  is  lessened 
and  so  it  loses  its  efficiency — in  the  same  way  that  a 
ship  is  difficult  to  steer  when  she  begins  to  lose  way. 
We  were  faced  also  by  another  and  a graver  difficulty. 
Confused  by  the  fog,  which  still  hung  over  the  aero- 
drome, I had  misjudged  our  position.  We  found  we 


28 


LEARNING  TO  FLY 


were  much  nearer  the  end  of  the  ground  than  I had 
imagined.  In  front  of  us  there  loomed  suddenly  a 
boundary  wall,  against  which  it  seemed  probable  we 
should  dash  ourselves.  There  were  no  brakes  on  the 
machine  ; no  way  of  checking  it  from  the  driving  seat. 
Our  position  seemed  critical. 

It  was  now  that  I shouted  to  my  friend,  telling  him 
to  jump  out  of  the  machine  as  best  he  could,  and  catch 
hold  of  the  wooden  framework  behind  the  planes, 
allowing  the  machine  to  drag  him  along  the  ground, 
and  so  using  the  weight  of  his  body  as  a brake.  This, 
with  great  dexterity,  he  managed  to  do,  and  we  came  to 
a standstill  not  more  than  a foot  or  so  from  the  wall 
This  proved  a chastening  experience  ; we  pictured  our 
aeroplane  dashed  against  the  wall,  and  reduced  to  a 
mass  of  wreckage.  Very  cautiously  we  lifted  round 
the  tail  of  the  machine.  It  was  impossible  to  switch 
off  the  motor  and  have  a rest,  because,  if  we  had  stopped 
it,  we  should  not  have  been  able  to  start  it  again  without 
our  gear,  which  was  away  on  the  other  side  of  the 
ground. 

Now,  having  got  the  machine  into  position  for  a 
return  trip  across  the  aerodrome,  I accelerated  the 
engine,  and  we  started  off  back.  For  about  twenty 
minutes,  without  further  incident,  we  ran  to  and  fro ; 
and  now  I felt  that  I had  the  machine  well  in  control 
— on  the  ground  at  any  rate.  And  so  the  next  thing 
was  to  rise  from  the  ground  into  the  air.  I told  my 
friend  my  intention,  calling  to  him  above  the  noise  of 
the  motor ; and  I admired  him  for  the  calm  way  in 
which  he  received  my  news.  I should  not  have  been 
surprised  if  he  had  demanded  that  I should  slow  up 
the  machine  and  let  him  scramble  out.  In  those  days 
it  was  thought  dangerous  to  go  up  even  with  a skilled 
and  more  or  less  experienced  pilot.  How  much 
greater,  therefore,  must  have  seemed  the  risk  of  making 
a trial  flight  with  me — a complete  novice  in  the  control 


FIRST  EXPERIENCES 


29 


of  a machine.  But  my  friend  nodded  and  sat  still 
in  his  seat.  So  I accelerated  the  motor  and  raised 
very  slightly  our  rear  elevating  plane.  And  then  we 
felt  we  were  off  the  ground  ! There  was  no  longer  any 
sensation  of  our  contact  with  the  earth— no  jolting,  no 
vibration.  In  a moment  or  so,  it  seemed,  the  mono- 
plane was  passing  through  the  air  at  a height  of  about 
30  feet.  This,  to  our  inexperienced  eyes,  appeared  a 
very  great  altitude  ; and  I made  up  my  mind  at  once 
to  descend.  This  manoeuvre,  that  of  making  contact 
with  the  ground  after  a flight,  I had  been  told  was  the 
most  difficult  of  all.  It  is  not  surprising  that  this  should 
be  so.  Our  speed  through  the  air  was,  at  the  moment, 
about  50  miles  an  hour ; and  to  bring  a machine  to 
the  ground  when  it  is  moving  so  fast,  without  a violent 
shock  or  jar,  is  a manoeuvre  needing  considerable 
judgment.  But,  remembering  that  the  main  thing  was 
to  handle  the  control  lever  gently,  I managed  to  get 
back  again  to  the  aerodrome  without  accident ; and 
after  this  we  turned  the  machine  round  again  and 
made  another  flight. 

The  fog  had  cleared  by  now,  and  we  were  surprised 
to  see  a number  of  people  running  across  the  ground 
towards  us.  First  there  came  the  tardy  mechanics ; 
and  with  them  were  a number  of  reporters  and  photo- 
graphers representing  the  Paris  newspapers.  These 
latter  had — though  I only  found  this  out  afterwards — 
been  brought  by  the  mechanics  in  the  expectation  of 
being  able  to  record,  with  their  notebooks  and  cameras, 
some  catastrophe  in  which  we  were  expected  to  play 
the  leading  parts.  Knowing  the  powerful  type  of 
monoplane  I had  acquired,  a machine  not  suited  for  a 
novice,  the  mechanics  had  felt  sure  some  disaster  would 
overtake  me.  But,  as  it  happened,  their  anticipations 
were  not  fulfilled.  The  journalists  and  photographers 
did  not,  however,  have  a fruitless  journey.  Though 
there  was  nothing  gruesome  to  chronicle,  they  found 


30 


LEARNING  TO  FLY 


ample  material,  when  they  learned  of  them,  in  the  early 
morning  adventures  of  myself  and  my  friend  with  this 
60  h.p.:  monoplane.  Next  day,  in  fact,  our  exploits 
were  given  prominence  in  the  newspapers,  and  I 
received  a number  of  congratulatory  telegrams ; not 
forgetting  one  of  a slightly  different  character  which 
came  from  M.  Bleriot.  He  was  flying  at  the  time  in 
Vienna,  and  he  warned  me  of  the  dangers  of  such 
boldness  as  I had  displayed — having  regard  to  the 
speed  and  power  of  my  machine — and  pleaded  with 
me  for  a greater  caution. 


CHAPTER  IV 


THE  CONTROLLING  OF  LATEST-TYPE  CRAFT 

People  are  puzzled,  often,  when  they  try  to  explain 
to  themselves  how  it  is  that  an  aeroplane,  which  is  so 
much  heavier  than  air,  manages  to  leave  the  ground 
and  to  soar  in  flight.  When  balloons  or  airships  ascend, 
it  is  realised  of  course  that  the  gas,  imprisoned  within 
their  envelopes,  draws  them  upward.  But  the  aero- 
plane— weighing  with  pilot,  passenger,  and  fuel  perhaps 
several  thousand  pounds — rises  without  the  aid  of  a 
gas-bag  and  with  nothing  to  sustain  it  but  narrow 
planes ; and  these  do  not  beat,  like  the  wings  of  a 
bird,  but  are  fixed  rigidly  on  either  side  of  its  body. 
How  is  the  weight  of  machine  and  man  borne  through 
this  element  we  cannot  see,  and  which  appears 
intangible  ? 

The  secret  is  speed — the  sheer  pace  at  which  an 
aeroplane  passes  through  the  air.  As  a craft  stands  on 
the  ground,  its  planes  are  inoperative.  Power  lies 
dormant  in  the  air,  but  only  when  it  is  in  motion,  or 
when  some  object  or  apparatus  is  propelled  through  it 
at  high  speed.  Have  you  stood  on  a height,  in  a gale, 
and  felt  an  air  wave  strike  powerfully  against  your 
body  ? The  blow  is  invisible  ; but  you  yield  a step, 
gasping ; and,  had  you  wings  at  such  a moment,  you 
would  not  doubt  the  power  of  the  wind  to  sweep  you 
upward.  This  is  the  force  the  aeroplane  utilises. 

If,  on  a calm  day,  you  accelerate  your  motor-car  to 
60  miles  an  hour,  the  air  sweeps  past  you  in  a powerful 
stream  ; just  as  it  would  if  you  were  standing  still,  and 

3i 


32 


LEARNING  TO  FLY 


there  was  a gale  of  wind.  Instead  of  the  wind  possess- 
ing the  speed,  in  this  instance,  it  is  you  who  provide 
it.  The  motor  of  an  aeroplane,  driving  the  propeller 
of  the  machine,  turns  this  at  1000  or  more  revolutions 
a minute,  and  causes  its  curved  blades  to  screw  forward 
through  the  air  as  they  turn,  like  those  of  a ship’s 
propeller  through  water — or  a gimlet  into  wood.  The 
propeller,  as  it  bores  its  way  into  the  air,  draws  or 
pushes  the  aeroplane  across  the  ground ; and  the  speed 
grows  rapidly  until  the  air,  sweeping  with  an  increas- 
ing pressure  beneath  the  planes,  becomes  sufficient  to 
bear  the  craft  in  flight. 

But  the  wing  of  an  aeroplane  would  not  sustain  its 
load  unless  designed  specially  to  act  upon  the  air. 
A man,  if  he  is  unlucky  enough  to  fall  from  a tall  build- 
ing, passes  through  the  air  at  a high  speed.  His  body 
obtains  no  support  from  the  air  ; so  he  crashes  to  the 
ground.  This  is  because  his  body  is  heavy,  and 
presents  only  a small  surface  to  the  air.  To  secure  a 
lifting  influence  from  the  air,  it  must  be  struck  swiftly 
with  a large,  light  surface. 

Men  go  to  Nature  when  building  wings  for  aeroplanes, 
and  imitate  the  birds.  The  wing  of  a bird  arches  up- 
ward from  front  to  back,  most  of  the  curve  occurring 
near  the  forward  edge ; and  this  shape,  when  applied 
to  an  aeroplane  wing,  is  known  as  its  camber.  With 
an  aeroplane  wing,  if  its  curve  is  adjusted  precisely, 
the  air  not  only  thrusts  up  from  below  as  a machine 
passes  through  it,  but  has  a lifting  influence  also  from 
above ; an  effect  that  is  secured  by  the  downward  slope 
of  the  plane  towards  its  rear  edge.  The  air,  sweeping 
above  the  raised  front  section  of  the  plane,  is  deflected 
upward,  and  with  such  force  that  it  cannot  descend 
again  immediately  and  follow  the  downward  curve  of 
the  surface.  So,  between  this  swiftly-moving  air  stream, 
and  the  slope  to  the  rear  of  the  plane,  a partial  vacuum 
is  formed,  and  this  sucks  powerfully  upward.  With 


THE  LATEST-TYPE  CRAFT 


33 

a single  wing,  therefore,  it  is  possible  to  gain  a double 
lifting  influence — one  above  and  one  below. 

The  building  of  aeroplanes,  once  their  wing  lift  is 
known,  becomes  a matter  of  precision.  According  to 
the  speed  at  which  they  fly,  and  the  size  and  curve  of 
their  planes,  machines  will  sustain  varying  loads. 
In  some  machines,  as  a general  illustration — craft 
which  fly  fast — the  planes  may  bear  a load  equal  to 
io  lbs.  per  square  foot.  In  others  the  loading  may  be 
less  than  3 lbs.  per  square  foot. 

Apart  from  raising  a craft  into  the  air,  by  the  lifting 
power  of  its  wings,  there  is  the  problem  of  controlling 
it  when  in  flight.  The  air  is  treacherous,  quickly 
moving.  Gusts  of  abnormal  strength,  sweeping  up  as 
they  do  invisibly,  may  threaten  to  overturn  a machine 
and  dash  it  to  earth.  Eddies  are  formed  between 
layers  of  warm  and  cold  air.  There  are,  as  a craft 
flies,  constant  increases  or  lessenings  of  pressure  in  the 
air-stream  that  is  sweeping  under  and  over  its  wings ; 
and  all  these  fluctuations  influence  its  equilibrium. 
Unless,  therefore,  a machine  is  automatically  stable — 
and  with  craft  of  this  type  we  shall  deal  later — the  pilot 
must  be  ready,  by  a movement  of  the  surfaces  which 
govern  the  flight  of  the  machine,  to  counteract  quickly, 
with  a suitable  action  of  his  levers,  the  overturning 
influence  that  may  be  exercised  by  a gust  of  wind. 
Here  lies  the  art  of  flying.  A man  is  given  a machine 
which,  by  the  action  of  its  motor  and  propeller,  will 
raise  itself  into  the  air ; and  it  is  his  task,  when  the 
craft  is  once  aloft,  to  manipulate  it  accurately  and 
without  accident,  and  to  bring  it  to  earth  safely  after 
he  has  made  a flight. 

In  the  description  of  controlling  movements  which 
follows  we  shall,  for  the  sake  of  convenience,  and  for 
the  sake  also  of  brevity,  deal  only  with  the  type  of 
“ pusher  ” biplane  to  which  reference  has  been  made 
already,  and  on  which  large  numbers  of  pupils  have 
0 


34 


LEARNING  TO  FLY 


been,  and  are  being,  trained  to  fly.  This  casts  no 
aspersion  whatever  on  tractor  machines  or  on  mono- 
planes. On  either,  if  he  has  an  inclination,  a pupil 
can  undergo  his  instruction,  and  do  so  usually  with 
success.  But  explanation  is  rendered  more  easy,  and 
there  is  less  likelihood  of  a dispersal  of  interest,  if  one 
machine  is  selected  for  illustration ; and  our  reasons 
for  the  choice  of  a “ pusher  ” biplane,  regarded  from  the 
point  of  view  of  tuition,  have  been  explained  already. 

First,  therefore,  one  may  deal  with  raising  the  craft 
into  the  air,  and  causing  it  to  descend.  In  the  photo- 
graph of  the  school  machine  shown  facing  this  page,  it 
will  be  seen  that  the  control  surfaces  are  indicated  by 
lettering.  In  front  of  the  biplane,  on  outriggers,  is  the 
plane  “ A.”  This  surface  (aided  in  its  action  by  a 
rear  plane)  governs  the  rise  or  descent  of  the 
machine.  When  the  motor  is  started,  and  the  propeller 
drives  the  biplane  across  the  ground  on  its  chassis 
B,  the  machine  would,  if  this  lifting  plane  was  held 
in  a negative  position,  continue  to  move  forward  on 
the  earth  and  would  make  no  attempt  to  rise.  In 
order  to  leave  the  ground,  when  the  speed  of  the 
machine  is  sufficient  for  its  main-planes  (C.C.)  to  be- 
come operative,  and  bear  its  weight  through  the  air, 
the  pilot  draws  back  slightly  towards  him  a lever,  which 
is  placed  just  to  the  right  of  his  driving-seat  and  is 
held  with  the  right  hand.  A photograph  which  shows 
this  lever,  and  the  other  controls,  appears  facing 
page  36,  the  lever  to  which  we  are  referring  being 
indicated  by  the  figure  1.  The  effect  on  the  aircraft 
when  the  pilot  draws  back  this  lever — the  motion  being 
slight  and  made  gently — is  to  tilt  up  the  elevating 
plane  A,  and  this  in  its  turn,  owing  to  the  pressure  of 
air  upon  it,  raises  the  front  of  the  machine.  The  result 
of  this  alteration  in  the  angle  of  the  craft  is  that  it 
presents  its  main-planes  at  a steeper  angle  to  the  air. 
Their  lifting  influence  is  increased,  with  the  result 


GRAHAME- WHITE  SCHOOL  BIPLANE  (TYPE  XV.)  [Photo  by  Topical  Press  Agency. 

The  front  elevating  plane,  which  acts  in  conjunction  with  the  rear-plane  marked  A1  ; B— The  landing-chassis ; 
.-The  main-planes  ; D.  D.— The  ailerons  ; E.E.— The  rudders  ; F—  Engine  (a  60-h.p.  Le  Rhone)  and  propeller. 


THE  LATEST-TYPE  CRAFT 


35 


that — at  an  angle  governed  by  the  pilot  with  his  move- 
ment of  the  elevating  plane — they  bear  the  machine 
from  the  ground  into  the  air. 

A reverse  movement  of  the  elevator  reduces  the  lift 
of  the  main-planes  ; hence,  when  an  aviator  wishes  to 
descend,  he  tilts  down  his  elevator,  bringing  his  machine 
at  such  an  angle  that  it  is  inclined  towards  the  ground. 
Then,  switching  off  his  engine  so  as  to  moderate  the 
speed  of  his  descent,  and  by  such  manipulations  as  may 
be  necessary  of  his  elevator,  he  pilots  his  craft  to  earth 
in  a vol-plane,  during  which  gravity  takes  the  place  of 
his  motor,  and  he  is  able — by  steadying  his  machine 
and  bringing  it  into  a horizontal  position  just  at  the 
right  moment — to  make  a gentle  contact  with  the 
ground. 

A pilot  must  be  able  to  do  more  than  cause  his 
aeroplane  to  ascend  and  to  alight : he  must  have 
means  to  check  the  lateral  movements  which,  under 
the  influence  of  wind  gusts,  may  develop  while  the 
biplane  is  in  flight.  At  the  rear  extremities  of  the 
main-planes  as  illustrated  in  the  photograph  facing 
page  34 — and  marked  D.D. — are  flaps,  or  ailerons,  which 
are  hinged  so  that  they  may  be  either  raised  or  lowered. 
These  ailerons  are  operated,  through  the  medium  of 
wires,  by  the  same  hand-lever  which  governs  the  move- 
ment of  the  elevator.  This  lever  is  mounted  on  a 
universal  joint,  and  can  be  moved  from  side  to  side  as 
well  as  to  and  fro.  Should  the  biplane  tilt,  while 
flying,  say  towards  the  left,  the  pilot  moves  his  hand- 
lever  sideways  towards  the  right.  This  is  a natural 
movement,  the  instinct  being  to  move  the  lever  away 
from  the  direction  in  which  the  machine  is  heeling. 
This  movement  of  the  lever  has  the  effect  of  drawing 
down  the  ailerons  on  the  left-hand  side  of  the  machine  ; 
on  the  side,  that  is  to  say,  which  is  tilted  down  ; and 
the  depression  of  these  auxiliary  surfaces,  increasing 
suddenly  as  they  do  the  lifting  influence  of  the  main- 


LEARNING  TO  FLY 


36 

planes  to  which  they  are  attached,  tend  to  thrust  up 
the  down-tilted  wings,  and  so  restore  the  equilibrium 
of  the  machine. 

In  the  operation  of  his  ailerons,  combined  with  the 
use  of  his  elevator,  a pilot  is  given  means  to  balance 
his  craft  while  in  flight.  One  should  not  gain  the 
impression  that  an  aeroplane  is  threatening  ceaselessly 
to  heel  this  way  and  that.  This  is  not  so.  The  machine 
has  a large  measure  of  stability,  apart  from  any  manipu- 
lation of  its  controls,  and  needs  balancing  only  when 
some  disturbance  of  the  atmosphere  affects  its 
equilibrium.  Under  favourable  conditions,  such  as  a 
pupil  will  experience  in  his  first  flights,  nothing  more  is 
necessary  with  the  hand-lever  than  a very  slight  but 
fairly  constant  action  ; a similar  motion,  in  a way,  as 
is  made  by  the  driver  of  a motor-car  when  he  maintains, 
by  his  “ feel  ” on  the  wheel,  his  sense  of  control  over 
the  machine.  In  the  controlling  actions  of  an  aero- 
plane— and  this  is  a fact  which  tends  sometimes  to  the 
confusion  of  the  novice — nothing  more  is  required, 
normally,  than  the  most  delicate  of  movements.  The 
difference  say  between  ascending,  and  skimming  along 
the  ground,  is  represented  by  a movement  of  the  hand- 
lever  of  only  a few  inches.  Delicate,  sure,  quick,  and 
firm  ; such  is  the  touch  needed  with  an  aeroplane. 

With  the  one  hand-lever,  as  we  have  shown,  it  is 
possible  for  a pilot  to  control  the  rise  and  descent,  and 
also  the  lateral  movements  of  his  machine  ; and  there 
remains  only  the  steering  to  be  effected — the  move- 
ment from  side  to  side,  from  right  to  left,  or  vice-versa. 
At  the  rear  of  the  biplane,  as  shown  facing  page  34. 
will  be  seen  two  vertical  planes,  E.E.  These,  being 
hinged,  will  swing  from  side  to  side  ; and  they  exercise 
a sufficient  influence,  when  working  in  the  strong  current 
of  air  that  blows  upon  them  when  a machine  is  in  flight, 
to  steer  it  accurately  in  any  direction.  The  pilot,  to 
operate  this  rudder,  rests  his  feet  on  a conveniently- 


THE  CONTROLS  OF  A SCHOOL  BIPLANE.  [Photo  by  Topical  Press  Agency. 

1.— The  upright  lever  which,  working  on  a universal  joint,  operates  the  elevator  and  ailerons  ; 2.— The^bar, 

actuated  by  the  pilot’s  feet,  which  operates  the  rudders  of  the  machine;  3. -The  pilot’s  seat;  4.— The 

passenger’s  seat. 


THE  LATEST-TYFE  CRAFT 


37 


placed  bar,  which  is  mounted  on  a central  swivel,  and 
allows  the  bar  to  be  swung  by  a pressure  of  either  foot. 
When  the  pilot  needs  to  make  a turn  say  to  the  left,  as 
he  is  flying,  he  presses  his  left  foot  forward.  This 
swings  the  bar  in  same  direction ; and,  by  a simple 
connection  of  wires  running  to  the  tail  of  the  machine, 
the  rudders  are  made  to  swing  over  to  the  left  also, 
and  the  machine  turns  in  response  to  them.  A similar 
movement  to  the  right  produces  a right-hand  turn. 
This  foot  rudder  bar,  being  numbered  2,  is  shown  in  the 
picture  facing  page  36. 

Apart  from  the  movements  we  have  described, 
which  are  extremely  simple,  a pilot  needs  also  to  main- 
tain control  over  his  motor.  Near  his  left  hand,  fixed 
to  the  framework  just  at  one  side  of  his  seat,  are  levers 
which  govern  the  speed  of  the  engine,  also  the  petrol 
supply ; while  close  to  them  is  the  switch  by  which  the 
ignition  can  be  switched  on  or  off. 

A final  word  is  necessary  here,  perhaps,  and  it  is  this : 
the  glamour  and  mystery  which,  in  the  early  days,  clung 
to  the  handling  of  an  aeroplane  has  now  been  dispelled 
almost  entirely.  A well-constructed  machine,  flying 
under  favourable  conditions,  requires  surprisingly 
little  control ; what  it  does,  one  may  almost  say,  is  to 
fly  itself. 


CHAPTER  V 


THE  STAGES  OF  TUITION 

Flying  schools — those  which  really  can  be  described 
as  such — have  been  in  operation  now  for  seven 
years  ; and  during  this  time,  with  thousands  of  pupils 
going  through  their  period  of  tuition,  many  very 
valuable  lessons  have  naturally  been  learned.  To-day, 
at  a well-managed  school,  each  stage  in  a pupil’s  in- 
struction, mapped  out  as  a result  of  experience,  is 
arranged  methodically  and  with  care ; the  idea  being 
that  the  novice  should  pass  from  one  stage  to  another 
by  a smoothly-graduated  scale,  facilitating  his  progress 
and  reducing  elements  of  risk. 

It  is  in  the  early  morning,  and  again  in  the  evening, 
that  the  flying  schools  are  most  busy  as  a rule.  At 
such  times — morning  and  evening — the  wind  blows 
with  least  violence ; and  it  is  very  necessary  that  a 
pupil,  when  he  is  handling  craft  for  the  first  time, 
should  have  weather  conditions  which  are  favourable. 
Summer  and  winter,  as  soon  as  it  is  light,  and  granted 
conditions  appear  suitable,  mechanics  wheel  the  aero- 
planes from  the  sheds,  and  the  instructors  begin 
their  work.  Should  there  be  any  doubt  as  to  the 
weather,  or  as  to  the  existence,  say,  of  difficult  air 
currents,  an  instructor  will  fly  first,  circling  above  the 
aerodrome  at  various  heights,  and  satisfying  himself, 
by  the  behaviour  of  his  machine,  whether  it  will  be 
safe  for  the  novices  to  ascend.  If  he  pronounces  “ all 
well,”  school  work  begins  in  earnest,  and  continues — 
provided  the  weather  remains  favourable — until  all 

38 


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This  photograph  shows  clearly  t he  hinged  ailerons  fixed  at  the  extremities  of  the  plane*ends  for  maintaining 
lateral  stability:  also  the  rear  elevating  plane  (which  acts  in  conjunction  with  the  fore-plane  mounted  on 
outriggers  at  the  front  of  the  machine)  and  the  twin  rudders. 


THE  STAGES  OF  TUITION 


39 


the  pupils  have  had  a spell  of  instruction.  Towards 
the  middle  of  the  day,  and  in  the  afternoon,  it  is  quite 
likely  the  wind  may  blow  and  school  work  be  suspended. 
But  in  the  evening  again,  when  there  is  usually  a lull, 
a second  period  of  instruction  will  be  carried  out.  In 
well-equipped  schools,  to  meet  such  conditions  as 
these,  it  is  customary  to  provide  two  complete  and 
distinct  staffs,  both  of  instructors  and  mechanics. 
One  staff  takes  the  morning  spell  of  work,  while  the 
second  is  held  in  readiness  for  the  evening.  This  ensures 
that,  both  morning  and  evening,  there  shall  be  available 
for  instruction  a fresh,  alert,  and  unfatigued  staff. 

A pupil  will  find  that,  as  the  first  stage  of  his  tuition, 
he  is  given  the  task  of  familiarising  himself  with  the 
controls  of  a school  biplane.  The  system  we  have 
described  already,  and  a pupil  should  find  no  difficulty 
in  mastering  it.  Placing  himself  in  the  driving-seat 
of  the  machine,  while  it  is  at  rest  on  the  ground,  the 
pupil  takes  the  upright  lever  in  his  right  hand,  and 
rests  his  feet  on  the  rudder-bar,  making  the  various 
movements  of  control,  again  and  again,  until  he  finds 
he  is  growing  accustomed  to  them,  and  can  place  his 
levers  in  a position  for  an  ascent  or  descent,  or  for  a turn, 
without  having  to  wait  while  he  thinks  what  it  is  necess- 
ary to  do. 

In  the  next  stage,  a more  interesting  one,  the  pupil, 
occupying  a seat  immediately  behind  his  instructor, 
is  taken  for  a series  of  passenger  flights.  These  accus- 
tom him  to  the  sensation  of  being  in  the  air,  and  also 
train  his  eye  in  judging  height's  and  distances.  A 
minor  point  the  pupil  should  bear  in  mind,  though  his 
instructor  will  be  quick  to  remind  him,  is  not  to  wear 
any  cap  or  scarf  that  may  blow  free  in  the  rush  of  wind 
and  become  entangled  with  the  propeller.  Scarves 
need  to  be  tightly  wrapped ; while  it  is  usual,  with  a cap, 
to  turn  it  with  the  peak  to  the  back,  and  so  prevent  it 
from  having  a tendency  to  lift  from  the  head.  Many 


40 


LEARNING  TO  FLY 


pupils  provide  themselves  with  a helmet  designed  to 
protect  the  head  in  case  of  an  accident,  and  these  are 
held  firmly  in  position.  Should  a passenger’s  cap 
blow  off,  and  come  in  contact  with  the  propeller,  it 
may  be  the  cause  of  an  accident.  How  carelessness  may 
lead  to  trouble,  in  this  regard,  will  be  gathered  from  the 
following  incident. 

Some  slight  repairs  had  been  made  one  day  to  the 
lower  plane  of  a machine  while  it  stood  out  on  the 
aerodrome,  and  one  of  the  workmen,  through  inadver- 
tence, had  left  lying  on  the  plane,  near  its  centre,  a 
roll  of  tape.  The  pilot  decided  to  make  another  flight, 
and  the  motor  was  started  and  the  machine  rose. 
Suddenly  the  aviator  was  startled  by  a sound  like  a 
loud  report,  which  seemed  to  come  from  the  rear  of  his 
machine.  The  craft  trembled  for  a moment,  and  he 
feared  a structural  collapse.  Nothing  worse  happened, 
however,  and  he  was  able  to  pilot  his  machine  in  safety 
to  the  aerodrome.  What  had  happened,  it  was  then 
ascertained,  was  that  the  roll  of  tape,  sucked  j back  in 
the  rush  of  wind,  had  been  drawn  into  the  revolving 
propeller  and  had  broken  a piece  out  of  it.  Luckily 
the  impact  had  not  been  heavy  enough  to  damage  the 
propeller  seriously,  or  cause  it  to  fly  to  pieces. 

A problem  with  which  the  pupil  will  be  faced  in  his 
first  flights,  particularly  if  he  is  learning  in  winter, 
will  be  that  of  keeping  himself  warm.  The  speed  at 
which  an  aeroplane  travels,  combined  with  the  fact 
that  it  is  at  an  elevation  above  the  ground,  renders 
the  “ bite  ” of  the  cold  air  all  the  more  keen,  and 
makes  it  difficult  very  frequently,  even  when  one  is 
warmly  clad,  to  maintain  a sufficient  warmth  in  the 
body,  and  particularly  in  the  hands  and  feet.  The 
question  of  cold  hands  is,  from  a pilot’s  point  of  view, 
often  a serious  one.  There  is  a case  on  record  of  an 
aviator  who,  his  hands  being  so  numbed  that  his  fingers 
refused  to  move,  found  he  could  not  switch  off  his  motor 


POWER-PLANT  OF  A SCHOOL  BIPLANE.  [Photo  by  Topical  Press  Agency. 

Showing  the  60-h.p.  Le  Rhone  Motor,  with  its  mounting  on  the  machine,  and  the  method  of  attaching  the  propeller. 
The  fuel  tank  is  also  visible  ; and,  forward  at  the  front  of  the  machine,  the  seats  of  passenger  and  pilot. 


OF  THE 

J.^EKSITYOF  ILLINOIS 


THE  STAGES  OF  TUITION 


4i 


when  the  time  came  to  descend  ; and  so  he  had  to  fly- 
round  above  the  aerodrome,  several  times,  while  he 
worked  his  numb  fingers  to  and  fro,  and  beat  some  life 
into  them  against  his  body.  At  last,  having  restored 
their  circulation  to  some  extent,  he  was  able  to  operate 
the  switch  and  make  a landing.  While  on  active  service 
in  winter,  after  flying  several  hours  at  high  altitudes, 
and  in  bitter  cold,  the  occupants  of  a machine  have 
descended  in  such  a numbed  condition,  despite  their 
heavy  garments,  that  it  has  been  found  necessary  to 
lift  them  out  of  their  seats.  But  a pupil  need  not  face 
such  hardships  as  these.  He  will  be  flying  for  short 
periods  only,  and  at  low  altitudes  ; so  if  he  makes  a few 
wise  purchases  from  among  the  selection  of  flying  gear 
now  available,  and  particularly  if  he  equips  himself 
with  some  good  gloves,  he  should  be  able  to  keep 
sufficiently  warm  in  the  air,  even  if  he  is  going  through 
his  training  in  winter. 

A pupil  will  feel  curious,  naturally,  as  to  his  sensa- 
tions in  the  first  flights  he  makes  with  his  instructor. 
Of  the  exact  moment  when  the  machine  leaves  ground 
he  will  be  unaware  probably,  save  for  the  cessation 
of  any  jolting  or  vibration,  such  as  may  be  caused 
by  the  contact  of  the  running  wheels  with  the  surface 
of  the  aerodrome.  His  first  clearly-marked  sensation, 
when  in  actual  flight,  will  occur  most  likely  when  the  pilot 
rises  a little  sharply,  so  as  to  gain  altitude.  Then  the 
pupil  will  have  a feeling  one  might  liken  to  the  ascent, 
in  a motor-car,  of  a steep  and  suddenly-encountered 
hill ; though  in  this  case  the  hill  is  invisible,  and  there 
is  no  earth  contact  to  be  felt.  This  sensation  of  climb- 
ing is  exhilarating ; and  when  the  pilot  makes  a re- 
verse movement,  descending  towards  the  ground, 
the  feeling  is  pleasant  enough  also,  provided  the  dive 
is  not  too  steep. 

The  pupil’s  chief  sensation,  probably,  will  be  that 
of  the  rush  of  wind  which  beats  against  him.  Some 


42 


LEARNING  TO  FLY 


people  feel  this  much  more  than  others.  There  is  some- 
times a feeling — it  is  no  more  than  temporary — of 
inconvenience  and  of  shock.  The  pupil  feels  as 
though  his  breathing  was  being  interfered  with 
seriously  ; as  though  the  pressure  was  so  great  he  could 
not  expel  air  from  his  lungs.  But  this  sensation,  even 
when  it  is  experienced,  is  short-lived.  In  a second 
flight,  quite  often,  the  novice  finds  that  this 
oppression  diminishes  very  perceptibly ; and  soon 
he  does  not  notice  it  at  all.  Motoring  experience 
proves  useful  here,  particularly  high-speed  driving 
on  a track. 

Some  confusion  is  felt  by  the  pupil,  as  a rule,  and 
this  is  only  natural,  in  regard  to  the  pace  at  which  the 
aeroplane  travels  through  the  air,  and  at  the  way 
in  which  the  ground  seems  to  be  tearing  away  below. 
Occasionally,  in  a first  flight,  this  impression  of  speed, 
and  of  height,  produce  in  the  pupil  a sensation  of 
physical  discomfort ; but  it  is  one  again  which,  in  the 
majority  of  cases,  is  quickly  overcome.  A few  balloon 
trips  are  a useful  preliminary  to  flights  in  an  aeroplane. 
They  familiarise  one  in  a pleasant  way  with  the 
sensation  of  height,  and  accustom  the  eye  also  to  the 
look  of  the  ground,  as  it  passes  away  below. 

While  he  is  making  his  first  flights  with  the  instructor, 
and  apart  from  analysing  his  sensations,  the  pupil  will 
observe  the  lever  movements  made  by  the  pilot  in 
controlling  the  machine ; and  the  fact  that  will  im- 
press itself  upon  him,  as  he  watches  these  movements, 
is  that  they  are  not  made  roughly  or  spasmodically, 
but  are  almost  invariably  gentle.  During  these  flights 
as  a passenger,  and  after  he  has  accustomed  himself 
to  the  novelty  of  being  in  the  air,  the  pupil  will  be 
allowed  by  the  instructor  to  lean  forward  and  place  his 
hand  on  the  control  lever  ; and  in  this  way,  by  actually 
following  and  feeling  for  himself  the  control  actions 
the  pilot  makes,  he  will  gain  an  idea  of  just  the 


MOTOR  AND  OTHER  GEAR— ANOTHER  VIEW.  {Photo  by  Topical  Press  Agency. 

This  shows  the  constructional  unit  that  is  formed,  on  a suitably  strong  framework  of  wood,  by  the  engine,, 
propeller,  and  fuel  tank,  and  also  by  the  seats  for  the  pilot  and  passenger. 


THE  STAGES  OF  TUITION 


43 

extent  to  which  the  lever  must  be  moved,  to  gain  any 
specific  result  in  the  flight  of  the  machine. 

The  next  stage  of  tuition  is  that  in  which  a pupil 
is  allowed  to  handle  a biplane  alone,  not  in  flight  though 
but  only  in  “ rolling  ” practice  on  the  ground — driving 
the  machine  to  and  fro  across  the  aerodrome.  The 
motor  is  adjusted  so  that,  while  it  gives  sufficient  power 
to  drive  the  machine  on  the  ground  and  render  the 
control  surfaces  effective,  it  will  not  permit  the  craft 
to  rise  into  the  air.  This  stage,  a very  necessary  one, 
teaches  the  pupil,  from  his  own  unaided  experience 
just  what  movements  he  must  make  with  his  levers 
to  influence  the  control  surface  of  the  machine,  and  to 
maintain  it,  say,  on  a straight  path  while  it  runs  across 
the  ground.  One  of  the  discoveries  he  will  make  is 
that  the  biplane,  if  left  to  itself,  shows  a tendency  to 
swerve  a little  to  the  left — the  way  the  propeller  is 
turning  ; but  this  inclination  may  be  corrected,  easily, 
by  a movement  of  the  rudder. 

The  pupil  learns  also  to  accustom  himself,  while  in 
this  stage,  to  the  engine  controls  which  have  been  ex- 
plained already ; and  he  is  not  likely  to  be  guilty  of 
the  error  of  one  excitable  novice  who,  while  driving  his 
machine  back  on  the  ground  towards  the  sheds  at  an 
aerodrome,  after  his  first  experience  in  “ rolling,” 
became  so  confused,  as  he  saw  the  buildings  looming 
before  him,  that  he  lost  his  head  completely  and  forgot 
to  switch  off  his  motor.  The  result  was  that  the 
aeroplane,  unchecked  in  its  course,  crashed  into  some 
railings  in  front  of  the  sheds  and  stood  on  its  head. 
Not  much  damage  was  done  however,  and  the  novice 
was  unhurt.  He  seemed  as  surprised  as  anyone  at 
what  had  happened,  and  confessed  that,  for  the  moment, 
his  mind  had  been  an  utter  blank. 

A pupil  continues  his  practice  in  “ rolling  ” till 
he  can  drive  his  machine  to  and  fro  across  the  aerodrome 
on  a straight  course,  and  with  its  tail  raised  off  the 


44 


LEARNING  TO  FLY 


ground ; the  latter  action  being  obtained  by  the 
pupil  by  means  of  a suitable  movement  of  the  vertical 
lever  which  operates  his  elevating  planes. 

Now  comes  the  time  when  a pupil,  taking  the  pilot’s 
seat,  and  with  the  instructor  sitting  behind  him — so 
as  to  be  ready,  if  necessary,  to  correct  any  error 
the  novice  may  make — begins  his  first  short  flights 
across  the  aerodrome.  He  rises  only  a few  feet  to  begin 
with,  and  flies  on  a straight  course,  alighting  each  time 
before  he  turns,  and  running  his  machine  round  on  the 
ground.  He  repeats  this  test  until  his  instructor  feels 
he  is  sufficiently  expert  to  take  the  machine  into  the 
air  alone.  When  this  stage  is  reached,  the  instructor 
leaves  his  position  behind  the  pupil,  and  the  latter  goes 
on  with  his  practice  till  he  can  fly  the  length  of  the 
aerodrome  alone,  landing  neatly  and  bringing  his 
machine  round  on  the  ground,  and  then  flying  back 
again  to  his  starting  point. 

In  the  early  days  of  flying  schools,  before  a pupil 
went  through  any  regular  system  of  instruction,  there 
were  remarkable  incidents  in  regard  to  these  first 
flights.  In  one  case  a pupil,  having  bought  his  own 
aeroplane  from  the  proprietors  of  a school,  insisted  on 
having  installed  in  it  a motor  of  exceptional  power. 
When  the  time  came  for  him  to  make  his  first  flight 
alone,  and  he  opened  the  throttle  of  this  engine  and  it 
began  to  give  its  full  power,  the  aeroplane  ran  only  a 
short  distance  across  the  ground,  and  then  leapt  into 
the  air.  The  engine  was  in  charge  of  the  machine, 
in  fact,  and  not  the  pupil.  Away  above  the  aerodrome, 
and  beyond  its  limits,  in  a strange,  erratic  flight,  the 
biplane  made  its  way.  As  the  pupil  struggled  valiantly 
with  his  engine  switch,  which  appeared  to  have  become 
jammed,  he  made  unconscious  and  jerky  move- 
ments of  his  control  levers.  One  moment  the  machine 
would  ascend  a little,  the  next  it  would  approach  nearer 
the  ground ; then  it  would  swing  either  right  or  left. 


THE  STAGES  OF  TUITION 


45 


Those  watching  from  the  aerodrome  held  their  breath. 
But  with  the  luck  of  the  beginner,  a luck  which  is 
proverbial  and  sometimes  amazing,  the  pupil  managed 
at  length  to  stop  his  motor  and  land  without  accident — 
though  by  no  means  gracefully — in  an  abrupt  gliding- 
descent. 

Another  story  concerns  one  of  those  temperamentally 
reckless,  happy-go-lucky  men  who,  though  providence 
seems  to  watch  over  them,  are  an  anxiety  nevertheless 
to  their  instructors.  This  pupil,  breaking  the  rules  of 
a school,  flew  out  on  one  of  his  first  flights  beyond  the 
limits  of  the  aerodrome,  disappearing  indeed  from  the 
view  of  those  near  the  sheds.  Not  far  from  the  aero- 
drome lay  a main  road,  with  tramway-lines  along  it.  A 
tram,  with  passengers  on  top,  happened  to  be  passing 
down  the  road ; and  it  was  to  the  astonishment  of 
these  passengers,  and  to  their  perturbation  as  well, 
that  they  observed  an  aeroplane  in  full  flight,  moving 
very  low  across  a neighbouring  field,  and  bearing  down 
straight  towards  them.  The  machine  passed,  indeed, 
unpleasantly  close  above  their  heads,  and  then  vanished 
as  dramatically  as  it  had  appeared.  Its  pilot,  as  may 
be  guessed,  was  the  pupil  who  had  disobeyed  orders, 
and  was  now  on  a wild  and  erratic  flight.  Presently, 
after  swerves  and  wanderings  over  the  surrounding 
country,  he  was  discerned  making  his  way  back  towards 
the  aerodrome,  still  flying  unreasonably  low.  Some 
trees  bordered  one  end  of  the  aerodrome  ; and  towards 
these,  as  though  he  meant  to  finish  his  exploit  by 
charging  into  them,  the  novice  was  seen  to  be  steering 
an  undeviating  course.  Nearer  he  came  to  them,  and 
still  he  did  not  turn  either  right  or  left.  The  instructor, 
and  those  gathered  with  him,  made  up  their  minds  that 
nothing  could  avert  an  accident.  But  it  happened 
that  there  was,  between  two  of  the  trees,  a space  only 
large  enough  for  an  aeroplane  to  pass  through.  A 
skilled  pilot,  a man  of  experience,  would  not  have  cared 


LEARNING  TO  FLY 


46 

to  risk  his  machine  in  an  endeavour  to  creep  between 
those  trees.  But  this  pupil,  a complete  novice,  steered 
boldly  towards  the  opening  and  slipped  through  it 
with  a precision  that  would  have  aroused  the  envy  of 
an  accomplished  pilot.  Then  he  landed  on  the  aero- 
drome and  climbed  in  leisurely  fashion  from  his 
machine — “ not  having  turned  a hair,”  as  the  saying 
goes.  The  remarks  of  the  instructor  when  he  neared 
the  machine,  and  began  to  unburden  himself,  do  not 
appear  to  be  on  record,  and  no  doubt  this  is  as  well. 

Having  shown  his  ability  to  make  a succession  of 
straight  flights,  taking  his  machine  into  the  air  with 
precision  and  landing  without  awkwardness,  the  pupil 
finds  himself  faced  next  with  the  problem  of  turning 
while  in  the  air.  On  this  stage,  however,  he  is  not 
allowed  to  embark  alone.  The  instructor  takes  his 
place  again  in  the  passenger’s  seat,  so  as  to  be  ready 
to  help  the  novice  should  he  become  confused,  or 
find  himself  in  any  difficulty.  Turns  to  the  left  are 
attempted  first ; and  the  reason  is  that,  the  propeller 
of  the  aeroplane  revolving  to  the  left — and  the  motor 
too  if  it  is  a rotary  one — the  machine  has  a tendency 
which  is  natural  to  turn  in  this  direction.  Half  turns 
only  are  tried  at  first,  the  pupil  landing  before  he  has 
completed  the  movement.  In  making  these  first  turns 
a pupil  finds  that,  apart  from  his  action  with  the  rudder- 
bar,  it  is  necessary  to  employ  the  ailerons  slightly,  so 
as  to  prevent  the  biplane  from  tilting  sideways.  The 
outer  plane-ends  of  the  machine  have  indeed,  when  a 
turn  is  being  made,  a natural  tendency  to  “ bank  ” 
as  it  is  called,  or  tilt  upward ; the  reason  being  that, 
as  the  machine  swings  round,  these  outer  plane-ends, 
moving  faster  for  the  moment  than  the  wing-tips  on  the 
inside  of  the  turn,  exercise  a greater  lift,  and  have  an 
inclination  to  rise.  An  experienced  aviator,  having 
learned  what  is  a safe  “ banking  ” angle,  makes  a 
deliberate  use  of  this  tendency  when  he  is  turning,  and 


THE  STAGES  OF  TUITION 


47 


may  on  occasion  even  exaggerate  it,  to  facilitate  the 
swing  of  his  machine  on  a very  rapid  turn,  and  to 
prevent  it  skidding  outwards.  But  with  the  novice, 
engrossed  completely  as  he  is  with  the  mere  problem 
of  getting  his  machine  round  in  the  air,  “ banking  ” is 
an  art  that  must  be  deferred  for  awhile.  It  is  perilously 
easy,  for  a beginner,  to  overstep  the  danger-line  between 
a safe  “ bank  ” and  a side-slip. 

It  is  not  long  before  the  pupil  can  make  a full  left- 
hand  turn  ; and  then  he  goes  on  to  perfect  himself  in 
this  movement,  flying  alone  now,  and  repeating  the 
turn  till  he  feels  he  can  make  it  with  confidence,  and 
at  a fair  height. 

And  now  he  comes  to  his  final  evolutions.  Having 
mastered  the  left-hand  turn,  he  proceeds  to  make  one 
to  the  right.  It  used  to  be  the  contention — a conten- 
tion that  is  now  disputed — that  in  this  movement,  if 
the  pupil  employed  his  rudder-bar  only,  he  would  find 
the  biplane  showed  an  inclination  to  rise  ; a tendency 
due  to  the  gyroscopic  influence  of  the  engine  and  pro- 
peller which — assuming  a rotary  engine  is  used — are 
now  revolving  in  the  opposite  direction  to  that  on 
which  the  machine  is  turned.  What  the  pupil  was 
recommended  to  do,  in  order  to  counteract  this 
rising  movement,  was  to  tilt  down  his  elevator  a 
little,  as  he  would  in  making  a descent. 

When  right-hand  turns  can  be  made  with  the  same 
facility  as  those  to  the  left,  the  pupil  begins  to  combine 
the  two  without  descending,  making  left  turns  and  right 
turns,  and  so  achieving  in  the  air  a series  of  figures  of 
eight.  He  learns  also  to  fly  a little  higher,  thus 
preparing  himself  for  one  of  his  certificate  tests. 

There  are  now  certain  very  important  rules  which, 
in  the  navigation  of  his  craft,  he  must  accustom  himself 
to  bear  constantly  in  mind.  Should  the  engine  of  his 
machine,  for  example,  betray  any  signs  of  failing,  he 
must  tilt  down  his  elevator  very  promptly,  and  place 


LEARNING  TO  FLY 


48 

his  craft  in  a position  for  a descent.  If  he  does  not  do 
this,  and  should  the  motor  stop  before  he  has  his  biplane 
at  an  angle  for  descent,  the  machine  may  lose  speed  so 
quickly,  and  its  tail-planes  show  such  a tendency  to 
droop — owing  to  the  lessening  of  pressure  on  their 
surfaces,  consequent  upon  the  failure  of  the  motor — 
that  there  is  a risk,  of  the  craft  coming  to  a standstill 
in  the  air  and  then  either  falling  tail-first,  or  beginning 
a side-slip  that  may  bring  it  crashing  to  the  ground. 

The  pupil  must  learn  also,  and  this  again  is  important, 
not  to  force  his  machine  round  on  a turn  while  it  is 
climbing.  If  he  does  so  the  power  absorbed  in  the 
ascent,  combined  with  the  resistance  of  the  turn,  may 
so  reduce  the  speed  of  the  machine  that  it  threatens 
to  become  “ stalled,”  or  reach  a standstill  in  the  air, 
with  the  result  that  it  either  side-slips  or  falls  tail- 
first.  The  procedure  the  pupil  is  taught  to  follow  is 
this : when  he  leaves  the  ground  he  climbs  a little, 
then  he  allows  his  machine  to  move  straight 
ahead ; then  he  proceeds  to  ascend  again  for  a 
spell,  repeating  afterwards  the  horizontal  flight.  In 
this  way  he  ascends  by  a series  of  steps,  like  climbing 
a succession  of  hills  in  a car ; and  his  turns  should 
be  made  only  during  the  spells  when  he  is  flying 
horizontally. 

In  this  stage  of  his  tuition,  the  pupil  must  learn 
also  to  make  a vol-plane,  or  descent  with  his  engine 
stopped.  The  essential  point  to  be  borne  in  mind, 
here,  is  that  an  aeroplane  will  continue  in  flight,  and 
remain  under  control,  even  when  it  is  no  longer  pro- 
pelled by  its  engine.  But  what  the  aviator  must  do, 
should  his  engine  stop  through  a breakdown,  or  should 
he  himself  switch  it  off,  is  to  bring  the  force  of  gravity 
to  his  aid,  and  maintain  the  flying  speed  of  his  craft 
by  directing  it  in  a glide  towards  the  ground.  Provided 
he  does  this,  and  keeps  his  machine  at  such  an  inclina- 
tion that  it  is  moving  at  a sufficient  speed  through  the 


This  shows  clearly  how  the  instructor,  from  his  seat  behind  the  pupil,  can  lean  forward  and,  by  placing  his 
hand  on  the  control  lever,  check  the  novice  in  an  error  of  manipulation. 


THE  STAGES  OF  TUITION 


49 


air,  he  will  find  that  the  craft  maintains  its  stability 
and  that  he  has  full  command  over  its  control  surfaces, 
being  able  to  turn,  say,  right  or  left,  or  either  increase 
or  slightly  decrease  the  steepness  of  his  descent.  But 
all  the  time,  of  course,  seeing  that  it  is  gravity  alone 
which  is  giving  him  his  flying  speed,  he  is  obliged  to 
plane  downward. 

A vital  point  to  remember,  when  a pupil  is  handling 
a “ pusher  ” type  of  biplane,  is  to  incline  the  machine 
well  downward,  by  a use  of  the  elevator,  before  switching 
off  the  motor.  Unless  this  is  done,  and  if  the  machine 
is,  say,  at  its  normal  horizontal  angle  when  the  engine  is 
stopped,  the  sudden  removal  of  pressure  from  the  tail- 
planes  of  the  craft,  brought  about  by  the  absence  of  the 
wind-draught  from  the  propellor,  may  cause  the  tail 
so  to  droop  as  to  render  inoperative  any  subsequent 
action  of  the  elevator.  When  the  tail  droops,  the 
main-planes  are  set  at  a steep  angle  to  the  air,  and  this 
has  a slowing-up  influence  on  the  whole  machine. 
It  threatens  therefore  to  stand  still  in  the  air ; its 
controls  become  useless ; and  the  pupil  is  faced 
probably  with  the  danger  of  a side-slip. 

A story  will  illustrate  this  point ; and  it  is  one  that 
has  a special  significance,  seeing  that  the  error  which 
might  have  cost  him  his  life  was  made  by  an  aviator 
of  experience.  He  had  learned  to  fly  on  a monoplane, 
and  had  devoted  his  subsequent  flying,  for  many 
months,  to  this  one  type  of  machine.  Then  he  found 
himself  associated  with  an  enterprise  in  which  a 
number  of  “ pusher  ” biplanes  were  employed,  and  he 
decided  that  it  would  be  useful  for  him  to  become 
accustomed  to  this  type  of  machine.  His  flying 
experience  of  course  helped  him,  and  he  soon  found 
himself  passing  to  and  fro  above  the  aerodrome,  the 
biplane  well  in  hand.  Then  he  thought  he  would  make 
a vol-plane,  with  his  motor  stopped,  as  he  had  been  in 
the  habit  of  doing  in  a monoplane.  He  switched  off 

D 


50 


LEARNING  TO  FLY 


his  engine  without  further  thought,  and  moved  his 
elevator  to  a position  for  the  descent.  But  it  was  here 
that  he  made  the  mistake.  In  a monoplane,  which  has 
the  weight  of  the  engine  and  other  gear  well  forward  in 
the  machine,  the  bow  has  a natural  tendency  to  tilt 
down  when  the  motor  is  cut  off — particularly  as  the 
propeller-draught  ceases  to  sweep  under  the  sustaining 
planes.  Therefore  one  can,  in  such  a machine,  switch  off 
safely  without  first  shifting  the  elevator,  and  getting 
the  bow  down  as  a preliminary.  What  the  pilot  had 
forgotten,  for  the  moment,  was  the  essential  difference 
between  monoplane  and  biplane.  When  he  had 
switched  off  the  engine  in  the  biplane,  and  moved  his 
elevator  as  he  was  accustomed  to  do,  he  found  to  his 
dismay  that  the  machine  failed  to  respond.  Instead 
of  pointing  its  bow  down,  indeed,  it  began  to  tilt  rear- 
ward. Also,  and  this  fact  was  noted  by  the  airman 
with  even  more  dismay,  the  craft  lost  forward  speed  so 
rapidly  that  it  became  uncontrollable.  The  next 
moment,  the  pilot  helpless  in  his  seat,  the  machine 
began  a side-slip  towards  the  ground.  One  sweep  it 
made  sideways,  falling  till  it  was  not  far  short  of  the 
surface  of  the  aerodrome.  It  paused  an  instant,  then 
began  a side-slip  in  the  opposite  direction.  But  here 
good  fortune  came  to  the  pilot’s  aid.  In  this  second 
swing,  the  machine  being  near  the  ground,  it  came  in 
contact  with  the  surface  of  the  aerodrome  before  the 
“ slip  ” had  time  to  develop  any  high  rate  of  speed. 
The  biplane  took  the  ground  sideways,  breaking  its 
landing-chassis  and  damaging  the  plane-ends  which 
came  first  in  contact  with  the  earth.  But  the  pilot 
emerged  from  the  wreckage  unhurt.  The  accident 
was  a lesson  to  him,  though,  as  it  was  to  others,  and  as 
it  should  be  to  all  pupils.  A machine  must  be  in  a 
gliding  position  before  the  engine  is  switched  off. 

The  art  of  the  accomplished  pilot,  granted  there  is 
no  reason  for  him  to  reach  earth  quickly,  is  to  glide  at  as 


university  of 

Illinois  library, 


PUPIL  AND  INSTRUCTOR  IN  FLIGHT  (3).  [Photo  bv  Topical  Press  Agency. 

Here  the  pupil  is  descending  in  a glide  with  his  engine  stopped,  the  cylinders  of  the  rotary  motor  being 

clearly  visible. 


THE  STAGES  OF  TUITION 


5i 


fine  an  angle  as  is  possible,  consistent  of  course  with 
maintaining  the  speed  of  the  machine  through  the  air, 
and  so  preserving  his  command  over  its  controls.  A 
beautifully-timed,  fine  glide,  the  machine  stealing  down 
gracefully,  and  touching  the  aerodrome  light  as  a 
feather,  at  a precise  spot  the  airman  has  decided  on 
even  when  he  was  several  thousand  feet  high,  is  a 
delightful  spectacle  for  the  onlooker,  and  a keen  pleasure 
also — from  the  point  of  view  of  his  manipulative  skill 
— to  the  aviator  himself.  But  a pupil,  at  any  rate  in 
his  first  attempts,  must  not  concern  himself  too  much 
with  any  idea  of  a fine  or  graceful  glide.  It  is  his 
business  to  get  to  the  ground  safely,  and  not  trouble 
too  much  whether  his  method  is  accomplished,  or 
merely  effective.  Once  with  the  bow  of  his  machine 
down,  and  his  motor  switched  off,  it  must  be  his  concern 
to  maintain  the  forward  speed  of  his  machine,  which 
can  be  done  only  by  holding  it  well  on  its  dive.  For 
the  novice,  if  he  attempts  any  fine  or  fancy  gliding, 
there  is  the  very  real  danger  that,  in  his  inexperience, 
he  may  lose  forward  speed  to  such  an  extent  that  his 
controls  become  inoperative,  and  his  machine  threatens 
to  side-slip.  One’s  ear  should,  apart  from  the  inclina- 
tion of  the  machine,  and  the  sensation  of  the  descent, 
help  one  materially  in  judging  the  speed  of  a glide. 
There  is  a " swish  ” that  comes  to  the  ear,  now  the 
engine  is  no  longer  making  its  clamour,  which  gives  a 
guide  to  the  pace  of  one’s  downward  movement. 
Aviators  who  are  skilled,  and  have  done  a large  amount 
of  flying,  are  able  to  judge  with  accuracy,  by  the  ear 
alone  and  without  the  aid  of  a mechanical  indicator, 
what  their  speed  is  as  they  pass  through  the  air. 

Having  held  his  machine  firmly  on  its  glide,  till  it 
is  quite  near  the  surface  of  the  aerodrome,  the  pupil 
has  next  to  think  of  making  a neat  contact  with  the 
ground.  The  art  here  is,  at  a moment  which  must 
be  gauged  accurately,  to  check  the  descent  of  the 


. Of  Ibi* 


52 


LEARNING  TO  FLY 


machine  by  a movement  of  the  elevator — to  “ flatten 
out,”  as  the  expression  goes.  If  the  movement  is 
made  neatly  the  craft  should,  when  only  a few  feet 
from  the  ground,  change  from  a descent  into  horizontal 
flight,  and  continue  on  this  horizontal  flight  for  a short 
distance,  losing  speed  naturally  each  moment — seeing 
that  there  is  no  driving  power  behind  it — and  so  losing 
altitude  also  through  its  decrease  in  speed,  until  its 
wheels  come  lightly  in  contact  with  the  ground,  and 
it  runs  forward  and  then  stands  still.  What  the 
novice  may  do,  if  he  is  not  careful,  is  to  “ flatten  out  ” 
when  he  is  too  high  above  the  ground.  The  result 
is  that  the  machine  slows  up  till  it  stands  still  in 
the  air,  robbed  of  its  speed,  and  then  makes  what  is 
called  a “ pancake  ” landing  : it  descends  vertically, 
that  is  to  say,  instead  of  making  contact  with  the 
ground  at  a fine  angle  and  with  its  planes  still  support- 
ing it ; and  the  effect  of  such  a “ pancake,”  if  the 
machine  comes  down  with  any  force,  may  be  that  the 
landing-chassis  is  damaged,  or  perhaps  wrecked.  But 
as  a rule,  remembering  that  he  has  careful  instruction 
to  guide  him  before  he  attempts  a gliding  descent,  the 
pupil  masters  the  art  of  landing  without  difficulty, 
and  without  mishap. 

Now,  after  repeating  perhaps  certain  of  his  evolu- 
tions, at  the  discretion  of  his  instructor,  in  order  to 
make  sure  that  he  can  accomplish  them  with  ease,  the 
pupil  is  ready  for  the  tests  which  will  give  him  his 
certificate  of  proficiency. 


CHAPTER  VI 


THE  TEST  FLIGHTS 

The  sport  of  aviation  is  controlled  throughout  the 
world,  and  flying  tests  and  events  of  a competitive 
character  are  governed,  by  the  International  Aero- 
nautical Federation.  To  the  deliberations  of  this 
central  authority  are  sent  delegates  from  the  Aero 
Clubs  of  various  countries ; and  to  these  Aero  Clubs, 
each  in  its  respective  country,  falls  the  task  of  governing 
flight,  according  to  the  rules  and  decisions  of  the  central 
authority.  In  Britain,  controlling  aviation  in  the  same 
way  that  the  Jockey  Club  controls  the  Turf,  we  have 
the  Royal  Aero  Club  of  the  United  Kingdom  ; and  it  is 
this  body,  acting  in  its  official  capacity,  which  grants 
to  each  new  aviator,  after  he  has  passed  certain  pre- 
scribed tests,  a certificate  which  proclaims  him  a pilot 
of  proved  capacity,  and  without  which  it  is  impossible 
for  him  to  take  part  in  any  contests  held  under  the 
auspices  of  the  Club.  The  certificate,  which  is  of  a 
convenient  size  for  carrying  in  the  pocket,  contains  a 
photograph  of  the  pilot  for  purposes  of  identification, 
and  specifies  also  the  rules  under  which  the  certificate 
is  issued  and  held. 

The  theory  of  these  tests,  as  imposed  by  the  Club 
before  it  grants  its  certificates,  is  that  the  novice 
should — so  far  as  is  possible  in  one  or  two  flights,  made 
over  a restricted  area,  and  in  a limited  space  of  time — 
be  called  on  to  show  that  he  has  a full  control  over  a 
machine  in  what  may  be  called  the  normal  conditions 
of  flight.  He  is  asked  to  ascend,  for  instance,  and  gain 
a fair  flying  altitude  ; then  to  make  such  evolutions  as 

53 


54 


LEARNING  TO  FLY 


will  demonstrate  his  command  over  the  control  sur- 
faces of  the  machine  ; and  finally  to  show  that  he  can, 
with  his  motor  switched  off,  descend  accurately  in  a 
vol-plane,  and  bring  his  machine  to  a halt  within  a 
specified  distance  of  a mark.  The  tests  are  set  forth, 
officially,  as  follows  : — 

A and  B.  Two  distance  flights,  consisting  of  at 
least  5 kilometres  (3  miles  185  yards)  each  in  a closed 
circuit,  without  touching  the  ground  ; the  distance  to 
be  measured  as  described  below. 

C.  One  altitude  flight,  during  which  a height  of 
at  least  100  metres  (328  feet)  above  the  point  of 
departure  must  be  attained ; the  descent  to  be 
made  from  that  height  with  the  motor  cut  off.  The 
landing  must  be  made  in  view  of  the  observers, 
without  re-starting  the  motor. 

The  rules  drafted  by  the  Club  to  govern  these  flights 
are  set  forth  herewith  : — 

The  candidate  must  be  alone  in  the  aircraft  during 
the  tests. 

The  course  on  which  the  aviator  accomplishes 
tests  A and  B must  be  marked  out  by  two  posts 
situated  not  more  than  500  metres  (547  yards)  apart. 

The  turns  round  the  posts  must  be  made  alter- 
nately to  the  right  and  to  the  left,  so  that  the  flights 
will  consist  of  an  uninterrupted  series  of  figures  of 
eight. 

The  distance  flown  will  be  reckoned  as  if  in  a 
straight  line  between  the  two  posts. 

The  alighting  after  the  two  distance  flights  in 
tests  A and  B shall  be  made : — 

(a)  By  stopping  the  motor  at  or  before  the  moment 

of  touching  the  ground. 

(b)  By  bringing  the  aircraft  to  rest  not  more  than 

50  metres  (164  feet)  from  a point  indicated 
previously  to  the  candidate. 


THE  TEST  FLIGHTS  55 

All  alightings  must  be  made  in  a normal  manner, 

and  the  observers  must  report  any  irregularity. 

These  flights  as  specified  to-day,  though  they  present 
no  difficulty  to  the  pupil  who  has  been  well  trained, 
are  more  stringent  than  they  were  in  the  first  scheme  of 
tests  as  prescribed  by  the  Club,  and  as  enforced  for 
several  years.  In  those  early  rules  the  distances  were 
the  same  as  they  are  to-day,  but  in  the  altitude  flight 
the  height  required  was  only  50  metres  (164  feet) — 
just  half  the  height  specified  to-day.  It  was  not  laid 
down,  either,  in  the  first  rules,  that  the  engine  should 
be  stopped  in  this  altitude  flight  when  at  the  maximum 
height,  and  that  the  descent  should  be  made  in  a 
complete  vol-plane,  without  once  re-starting  the  motor. 
As  originally  framed,  indeed,  the  rule  as  to  the  control 
of  the  engine  in  this  altitude  test  was  the  same  as  in 
regard  to  the  distance  flights — i.e.,  that  it  should  be 
stopped  “at  or  before  the  moment  of  touching  the 
ground.”  What  the  present  rule  means,  in  this  respect, 
is  that  the  pupil  must  be  really  proficient  at  making  a 
vol-plane,  without  any  aid  at  all  from  his  engine,  before 
he  can  hope  to  pass  the  test ; and  such  a proved  skill 
— say  in  the  making  of  his  first  cross-country  flight, 
should  his  engine  fail  suddenly — may  spell  the  difference 
between  a safe  or  a dangerous  landing. 

The  test  flights  for  the  certificate,  undertaken  only 
in  such  weather  conditions  as  the  pupil’s  instructor 
may  think  suitable,  are  watched  by  official  observers 
appointed  by  the  Royal  Aero  Club.  It  is  the  business 
of  these  observers,  when  the  prescribed  flights  have 
been  made,  to  send  in  a written  report  concerning  them 
to  the  Club  ; and  acting  on  this  report,  after  it  has  been 
considered  and  shown  to  be  in  order,  the  Club  issues 
to  the  pupil  his  numbered  certificate.  With  the  success- 
ful passing  of  his  tests  the  pupil's  tuition  is  at  an  end. 
He  is  regarded  no  longer  as  a novice,  but  as  a qualified 
pilot. 


CHAPTER  VII 


PERILS  OF  THE  AIR 

There  are  people,  very  many  people,  who  still  regard 
flying  as  an  undertaking  of  an  unreasonable  peril, 
essayed  mainly  by  those  who  are  in  quest  of  money, 
notoriety,  or  sensation  at  any  price.  Such  people — 
still  to  be  met  with — have  one  mental  picture,  and 
one  only,  of  the  flight  of  an  aeroplane.  They  imagine 
a man  in  the  air — and  this  mere  idea  of  altitude 
makes  them  shudder ; and  they  picture  this  man  in  a 
frail  apparatus  of  wood  and  wire,  capable  of  breaking 
to  pieces  at  any  moment ; or  even  if  it  does  not  break, 
needing  an  incessant  movement  of  levers  to  maintain 
it  in  a safe  equilibrium ; while  they  reckon  also 
that,  should  the  engine  of  the  machine  suffer  any 
breakdown,  the  craft  will  drop  to  earth  like  a stone. 
Prejudice  dies  hard  ; harder  no  doubt  in  England  than 
in  other  countries.  There  are  still  people,  not  few  of 
them  but  many,  who  would  be  ready  to  declare,  off- 
hand, that  one  aeroplane  flight  in  six  ends  in  a disaster. 

It  is  a truism,  but  one  that  has  a peculiar  truth  in 
aviation,  to  say  that  history  repeats  itself.  To-day 
we  find  large  numbers  of  people  who  still  cherish  the 
opinion  that — save  perhaps  when  on  service  in  war — 
it  is  nothing  less  than  criminal  foolishness  for  men  to 
ascend  in  aeroplanes.  That  attitude  of  mind  persists  ; 
the  growing  safety  of  flight  has  not  affected  it  to  any 
appreciable  degree.  But  those  eager  for  the  progress 
of  aviation  need  not  despair,  or  imagine  that  their' 
particular  industry  is  being  treated  with  any  excep- 

56 


PERILS  OF  THE  AIR 


57 


tional  disapprobation.  They  have  only  to  look  back 
a little  in  our  history,  no  great  distance,  and  read  of 
the  receptions  that  were  accorded  the  first  pioneers  of 
our  railways.  Public  meetings  of  protest  have  not  been 
held  to  condemn  aviation ; yet  they  were  frequent 
in  the  days  when  the  first  railways  were  projected. 
Vast  indignation  was  indeed  aroused  ; it  was  declared 
to  be  against  all  reason,  and  a matter  of  appalling 
risk,  that  people  should  be  asked  to  travel  from  place 
to  place  in  such  “ engines  of  destruction.”  But  the 
railways  managed  to  survive  this  storm.  They  were 
placed  here  and  there  about  the  country ; they  were 
improved  rapidly ; and  it  would  be  hard,  to-day,  to 
hnd  a safer  place  than  the  compartment  of  a railway 
train. 

Motor-cars,  when  their  turn  came,  had  to  go  through 
a similar  ordeal.  There  was  the  same  indignation, 
the  same  chorus  of  protest ; and  when  the  first  of  the 
pioneers,  greatly  daring,  began  actually  to  drive  their 
cars  on  the  public  highway,  there  were  people  who 
believed,  and  who  declared  forcibly,  that  to  permit 
such  machines  on  our  roads  was  the  crime  of  the 
century.  Had  not  these  pioneers  struggled  valiantly, 
sparing  neither  time  nor  money,  it  is  possible  that  the 
motor-car  might  have  been  driven  from  the  highway. 
But  here  again  progress,  though  it  was  retarded,  could 
not  be  checked.  The  motor-car  triumphed.  It  grew 
rapidly  more  reliable,  more  silent,  more  pleasing  to 
the  eye ; and  to-day  it  glides  in  thousands  along  our 
roads,  a pleasure  to  those  who  occupy  it,  a nuisance 
neither  to  pedestrians  nor  to  other  wheeled  traffic ; 
more  under  control  when  it  is  well  driven,  and  more 
ready  to  stop  quickly  when  required,  than  any  horsed 
vehicle  which  it  may  have  replaced.  At  one  time  the 
papers  were  full  of  such  headlines  as : “ Another 

Motor-car  Accident.”  Each  small  mishap  received 
prominent  attention : and  to  the  majority  of  people 


LEARNING  TO  FLY 


58 

it  seemed  the  wildest  folly  to  travel  in  such  vehicles. 
Yet  to-daj'' — such  is  progress — these  same  people  ride 
in  a motor-car,  or  a motor-cab,  quite  as  a matter  of 
course  and  without  a thought  of  risk. 

When  one  discusses  flying  and  its  dangers,  it  is 
essential  to  maintain  an  accurate  sense  of  proportion. 
In  the  very  earliest  days,  for  instance,  it  must  be 
realised  that  the  few  men  who  then  flew — they  could 
be  numbered  on  the  fingers  of  one  hand — exercised  the 
greatest  caution.  They  did  not  fly  in  high  winds ; 
they  treated  the  air,  realising  its  unknown  perils,  with 
a very  great  and  a very  commendable  respect.  Thus 
it  was  that  thousands  of  miles  were  flown,  even  with 
the  crudest  of  these  early  machines,  and  with  motors 
that  were  constantly  giving  trouble,  without  serious 
accident.  But  after  this,  and  very  quickly,  the  number 
of  airmen  grew.  New  aviators  appeared  every  day; 
contests  were  organised  extensively  ; there  were  large 
sums  of  money  to  be  won,  provided  that  one  pilot 
could  excel  another.  And  the  spirit  of  caution  was 
abandoned.  Even  while  they  were  still  using  purely 
experimental  machines — craft  of  which  neither  the 
stability  nor  the  structural  strength  had  been  tested 
adequately — there  grew  a tendency  among  airmen  to 
fly  in  higher  winds,  to  subject  their  machines  to  greater 
strains,  and  to  attempt  dangerous  manoeuvres  so  as 
to  please  the  crowds  who  paid  to  see  them  fly. 

It  was  not  surprising,  therefore,  that  flying  entered 
upon  an  era  of  accidents.  Such  disasters  were  inevitable 
— inevitable,  that  is  to  say,  in  view  of  the  tendencies 
that  then  prevailed  ; though  it  is  a melancholy  reflec- 
tion that,  had  men  been  content  to  go  ahead  with  the 
same  slow  sureness  of  the  pioneers,  many  of  those 
lives  which  were  lost  could  have  been  saved. 

To  the  public,  not  aware  exactly  of  all  that  was 
going  on,  it  appeared  as  though  the  navigation  of  the 
air,  instead  of  growing  safer,  was  becoming  more 


PERILS  OF  THE  AIR 


59 


dangerous.  There  were  suggestions,  indeed,  made 
quite  seriously  and  in  good  faith,  that  these  endeavours 
to  fly  should  cease ; that  the  law  should  step  in,  and 
prevent  any  more  men  from  risking  their  lives.  What 
people  failed  to  realise,  when  they  adopted  this  view, 
was  that  instead  of  one  or  two  men  flying  there  were 
now  hundreds  who  navigated  the  air ; that  flights  in 
large  numbers  were  being  made  daily  ; that  thousands 
of  miles  instead  of  hundreds  were  being  traversed  by 
air — and  often  under  conditions  the  pioneers  would 
have  considered  far  too  dangerous.  These  facts,  had 
they  been  realised,  would  have  shown  people  what  was 
actually  the  true  state  of  affairs  ; that,  though  accidents 
seemed  numerous,  and  were  indeed  more  frequent  than 
they  had  been  in  the  earliest  days  of  flying,  they  were 
as  a matter  of  proportion,  reckoning  the  greater  number 
of  men  who  were  flying,  and  the  thousands  of  miles 
which  were  flown,  growing  steadily  less  frequent. 

There  was  this  important  fact  to  be  reckoned  with 
also.  Each  accident  that  happened  taught  its  lesson, 
and  so  made  for  future  safety.  A considerable  number 
of  those  early  accidents  can,  for  instance,  be  traced 
to  some  structural  weakness  in  a machine.  The  need 
in  an  aircraft  then,  as  now,  was  lightness  ; and  in  those 
days  designers  and  builders,  owing  purely  to  their 
inexperience,  had  not  learned  the  art,  as  they  have 
to-day,  of  combining  lightness  with  strength.  So  it 
was  that,  as  more  powerful  motors  began  to  be  fitted 
to  aeroplanes,  and  greater  speeds  were  attained,  it 
happened  sometimes,  when  a machine  was  being  driven 
fast  through  a wind,  that  a plane  would  collapse,  and 
send  the  machine  crashing  to  the  ground  ; or  in  making 
a dive,  perhaps,  either  of  necessity  or  to  show  his  skill, 
a pilot  would  subject  his  machine  to  such  a strain  that 
some  part  of  it  would  break. 

From  such  disasters  as  a rule,  greatly  to  be  re- 
gretted though  they  were,  the  industry  emerged  so  much 


6o 


LEARNING  TO  FLY 


the  wiser.  The  strength  of  machines  was  increased ; 
the  engines  which  drove  them  were  rendered  more 
reliable  ; and  gradually  too,  though  none  too  rapidly, 
the  airmen  who  piloted  them  grew  in  knowledge  and 
skill.  But  all  this  time,  while  flying  was  being  made 
more  safe,  there  were  accidents  frequently  for  the 
papers  to  report ; and  this  was  due  entirely  to  the  fact 
that  there  were  now  thousands  of  men  flying,  where 
previously  there  had  been  fifties  and  hundreds.  The 
public  could  not  realise  how  rapidly  the  number  of 
airmen  had  grown ; that  practically  every  day,  at 
aerodromes  scattered  over  Europe,  flights  were  so 
frequent  that  they  were  becoming  a commonplace. 
It  was  in  1912,  as  one  of  its  many  services  to  avia- 
tion that  the  Aero  Club  of  France  was  able  to  show, 
by  means  of  statistics  which  could  not  be  questioned, 
that  for  every  fatality  which  had  occurred  in  France, 
during  that  particular  year,  a distance  of  nearly 
100,000  miles  had  been  flown  in  safety. 

The  cause  of  many  of  the  early  accidents  was,  as 
we  have  suggested,  the  breakage  of  some  part  of  a 
machine  while  in  flight.  In  an  analysis  for  instance 
of  thirty-two  such  disasters,  it  was  shown  that  fourteen 
were  due  to  the  collapse  of  sustaining  planes,  control- 
surfaces,  or  some  other  vital  part  of  a machine. 
And  this  risk  of  breakage  in  the  air  was  increased,  in 
many  cases,  by  the  building  of  experimental  machines 
by  men  who  had  no  qualifications  for  their  task,  and 
who  erred  only  too  frequently,  in  their  desire  to  attain 
lightness,  on  the  side  of  a lack,  rather  than  an  excess, 
of  structural  strength. 

There  are  many  cases,  unfortunately,  that  might 
be  cited  ; but  one  may  be  sufficient  here.  A man  with 
an  idea  for  a light  type  of  biplane,  a machine  designed 
mainly  for  speed,  had  an  experimental  craft  built — 
this  was  in  the  pioneer  days  of  1909 — and  insisted  on 
fitting  to  it  a motor  of  considerable  power.  It  was 


PERILS  OF  THE  AIR 


61 


pointed  out  to  him  that  his  construction  was  not 
sufficiently  strong,  in  view  of  the  speed  at  which  his 
machine  would  pass  through  the  air.  But  he  was  of 
the  quiet,  determined,  self-opinionated  type,  who 
pursued  his  own  way  and  said  little  He  did  not 
strengthen  his  constructional,  and  he  began  a series  of 
flying  tests.  In  the  first  of  these,  which  were  short, 
the  planes  stood  up  to  their  work,  and  the  fears 
of  the  critics  seemed  groundless.  But  a day  came 
when,  venturing  to  some  height,  the  aviator  encoun- 
tered a strong  and  gusty  wind  ; whereupon  one  of  his 
main-planes  broke,  and  he  fell  to  his  death. 

As  a contrast  to  this  tragedy,  and  a welcome  one, 
there  is  a humorous  story,  that  is  true,  told  of  one 
experimenter.  His  knowledge  of  construction  was 
small,  but  what  he  lacked  in  this  respect  he  made 
up  for  in  confidence;  and  he  built  a monoplane. 
This  was  in  the  days  just  after  the  cross-Channel 
flight,  and  experimenters  all  over  the  world  were 
building  monoplanes,  some  of  them  machines  of  the 
weirdest  description.  The  craft  built  by  this 
enthusiast  seemed  all  right  in  its  appearance  ; nothing 
had  been  spared,  for  instance,  in  the  way  of  varnish. 
When  wheeled  into  the  sun,  for  its  first  rolling  test 
under  power,  it  looked  an  imposing  piece  of  work. 
Friends  were  in  attendance,  photographers  also  ; and 
the  would-be  aviator  was  in  faultless  flying  gear. 
Mounting  a ladder,  which  had  been  placed  beside  the 
machine,  he  allowed  his  weight  to  bear  upon  the  fusil- 
age,  and  proceeded  to  settle  himself  in  his  seat.  But 
he,  and  the  onlookers,  wTere  startled  as  he  did  so  by 
an  ominous  cracking  of  wood.  It  grew  louder  ; some- 
thing serious  and  very  unexpected  was  happening  to 
the  machine.  As  a matter  of  fact,  and  just  as  it  stood 
there  without  having  moved  a yard,  the  whole  of  the 
flimsy  structure  parted  in  the  middle,  and  the  machine 
settled  down  ignominiously  upon  the  ground,  its  back 


62  LEARNING  TO  FLY 

broken,  and  with  the  discomfited  inventor  struggling 
in  the  debris. 

It  was  far  from  easy,  in  the  early  days,  for  even 
an  expert  constructor  to  calculate  the  strains  encoun- 
tered under  various  conditions  of  flight.  In  wind 
pressure,  under  certain  states  of  the  air,  there  are 
dangerous  fluctuations — fluctuations  which,  even  with 
the  knowledge  we  possess  to-day,  and  this  is  far  from 
meagre,  exhibit  phenomena  concerning  which  much 
more  information  is  required.  Machines  have  collapsed 
suddenly,  while  flying  on  a day  when  the  wind  has 
been  uncertain,  and  have  done  so  in  a way  which  has 
suggested  that  they  had  encountered,  suddenly,  a gust 
of  an  altogether  abnormal  strength.  Occasionally, 
though  research  work  in  this  field  is  extremely  difficult, 
it  has  been  possible  to  gain  data  as  to  the  existence  of 
conditions,  prevalent  as  a rule  over  a small  area, 
which  would  spell  grave  risk  for  any  aeroplane  which 
encountered  them.  There  is  a strange  case,  verified 
beyond  question,  which  occurred  during  some  tests 
with  man-lifting  kites  at  Farnborough.  These  kites 
are  strongly  built,  and  withstand  as  a rule  extremely 
high  winds.  On  this  particular  day  a kite,  when  it 
had  reached  a certain  altitude,  was  seen  to  crumple  up 
suddenly.  The  wind  did  not  seem  specially  strong — 
not  at  any  rate  on  the  ground  ; and  there  appeared  no 
reason  for  the  breakage  of  the  kite.  Another  was 
sent  up ; but  the  same  thing  happened,  and  at  the 
same  altitude.  Then  the  officer  who  was  in  charge  of 
the  kites  sent  for  a superior.  A third  kite  was  flown  to 
see  what  would  happen.  This  one  broke  exactly  as 
the  others  had  done,  and  at  just  the  same  height — 
about  five  hundred  feet.  Precise  data  could  not  be 
gained  as  to  this  phenomenon ; but  the  breaking  of 
these  kites — which  had  withstood  extremely  high 
pressure  in  previous  tests — was  reckoned  to  be  due  to 
the  fact  that,  when  they  reached  a certain  point  in  the 


PERILS  OF  THE  AIR 


63 


air,  they  were  subjected  to  the  violent  strain  of  a 
sudden  and  complete  change  in  the  direction  of  the 
wind.  To  the  pilot  of  an  aeroplane,  entering  without 
warning  some  such  area  of  danger,  the  result  might 
naturally  be  serious  in  the  extreme. 

The  air  has  been,  and  is  still,  an  uncharted  sea.  It 
does  not  flow  with  uniformity  over  the  surface  of  the 
earth.  It  is  a constantly  disturbed  element,  and  one 
that  has  the  disadvantage  of  being  invisible.  An 
aviator  cannot  see  the  dangerous  currents  and  eddies 
into  which  he  may  be  steering  his  craft ; and  so  it  was 
not  surprising,  in  those  days  when  aircraft  were  frailer 
than  they  should  have  been,  and  cross-country  flights 
were  first  being  made,  that  machines  broke  often  while 
in  flight  and  that  the  airman’s  enemy,  the  wind, 
claimed  many  victims. 

Wind  fluctuations  that  are  dangerous,  those  which 
possess  for  one  reason  or  another  an  abnormal  strength, 
are  encountered  frequently  when  a pilot  is  fairly  near 
the  earth  ; and  his  peril  is  all  the  greater  in  consequence. 
On  a windy  day,  one  on  which  there  are  heavy  gusts 
followed  by  comparative  lulls,  it  is  when  he  is  close 
to  the  ground,  either  in  ascending  or  before  alighting, 
that  a pilot  has  most  to  fear.  If  he  is  well  aloft,  with 
plenty  of  air  space  beneath  him,  and  particularly  if  he 
has  a machine  that  is  inherently  stable,  he  has  little 
to  fear  from  the  wind ; save,  perhaps,  should  his 
engine  fail  him,  or  should  he  find — as  has  been  the  case 
in  war  flying — that  the  force  of  the  wind,  blowing 
heavily  against  him,  and  reducing  the  speed  of  his 
machine,  has  prevented  him  from  regaining  his  own 
lines  before  his  petrol  has  become  exhausted.  The 
modern  aeroplane,  when  its  engine-power  is  ample, 
and  it  is  at  a suitable  altitude,  can  wage  battle  success- 
fully even  with  a gale.  But  it  must  rise  from  the 
earth  when  it  begins  a flight,  and  return  to  earth  again 
when  its  journey  is  done ; and  here,  in  the  areas  of 


LEARNING  TO  FLY 


64 

wind  that  are  disturbed  by  hills,  woods,  and  contours 
of  the  land,  there  are  often  grave  dangers.  The  wind 
at  these  low  altitudes  blows  flukily.  tits  direction 
may  be  affected,  for  instance,  owing  to  the  influence 
of  a hill  or  ridge.  A side  gust,  blowing  powerfully 
and  unexpectedly  against  a machine,  just  as  it  is  nearing 
the  ground  before  alighting,  may  cause  it  to  tilt  to  such 
an  angle  that  it  begins  a side-slip.  If  the  craft  was 
sufficiently  high  in  the  air,  when  this  happened,  the 
pilot  would  be  able,  probably,  to  convert  the  side-slip 
into  a dive,  and  the  dive  into  a renewal  of  his  normal 
flight.  But  if  such  a side-slip  begins  near  the  ground, 
and  there  is  an  insufficient  amount  of  clear  space  below 
the  machine,  it  may  strike  the  ground  in  its  fall,  and 
become  a wreck,  before  there  is  time  for  the  pilot,  or 
for  the  machine  itself,  to  exercise  a righting  influence. 
The  fact  that  a craft  may  be  forced  temporarily  from 
its  equilibrium,  say  by  a side-slip,  is  known  now  to 
represent  no  great  risk  for  the  airman,  granted  always 
that  he  has  the  advantage  of  altitude.  The  machine, 
in  such  circumstances,  falls  a certain  distance.  This  is 
inevitable,  and  for  the  reason  that  it  must  regain 
forward  speed — which  it  has  lost  temporarily  in  its 
side-slip — before  its  own  inherent  stability  can  become 
effective,  or  its  pilot  regain  influence  over  his  controls. 
And  it  is  this  unavoidable  descent,  this  short  period 
during  which  the  machine  is  recovering  its  momentum, 
and  during  which  the  pilot  has  no  power  of  control, 
that  represents  in  a heavy  wind  the  moments  of  peril, 
should  a pilot  enter  an  area  of  disturbance  just  as  he 
nears  the  ground. 

An  aeroplane,  when  it  sets  out  to  fly  in  bad  weather, 
may  be  likened  to  a boat  that  is  being  launched  from 
a beach  upon  a rough  and  stormy  sea.  It  is  the  waves 
close  inshore,  which  may  raise  his  craft  only  to  dash  it 
to  destruction,  that  the  boatman  has  chiefly  to  fear; 
and  for  the  aviator,  when  he  leaves  the  land  and 


PERILS  OF  THE  AIR 


65 

embarks  upon  the  aerial  sea,  or  when  he  returns  again 
from  this  element  and  must  make  his  contact  with  the 
earth,  there  lurks  a risk  that,  caught  suddenly  by  an 
air  wave,  and  with  insufficient  space  beneath  his 
machine,  he  may  be  forced  into  a damaging  impact 
with  the  ground.  But  the  skill  of  designers  and  con- 
structors, to  say  nothing  of  the  growing  experience 
of  aviators,  is  working  constantly  towards  a greater 
safety. 

Of  the  risk  attached  to  engine  failure,  when  he  is 
piloting  a craft  fitted  with  only  one  motor,  an  airman 
is  reminded  frequently,  not  only  from  his  own  experi- 
ence, but  from  that  of  other  flyers.  With  the  aeroplane 
engine,  even  with  types  that  have  gained  a high  average 
of  reliability,  there  are  many  possibilities  of  a slight 
mishap — each  of  them  sufficient,  for  the  moment,  to 
put  an  engine  out  of  action — that  the  pilot  who  is 
flying  across  country  must,  all  the  time  he  is  in  the  air, 
have  at  the  back  of  his  mind  the  thought  that  at  any 
moment,  and  perhaps  without  any  warning,  he  may  find 
that  his  motive  power  has  gone.  A magneto  may  fail 
temporarily  ; an  ignition  wire  or  a valve  spring  break. 
The  aeroplane  engine  of  to-day  is,  of  course,  an  infinitely 
more  reliable  piece  of  apparatus  than  it  was  in  those 
early  days  when  Henry  Farman,  working  with  extra- 
ordinary patience  at  Issy-les-Moulineaux,  was  endeav- 
ouring— and  for  a long  time  without  success — to  make 
the  motor  in  his  Voisin  biplane  run  for  five  consecutive 
minutes  without  breakdown.  The  war  has  shown  us, 
and  under  working  conditions  which  have  been  excep- 
tionally trying,  how  reliable  the  aero-motor  has  become. 
But  until  duplicate  plants  have  been  perfected,  and 
more  than  one  motor  is  fitted  to  aircraft  as  a matter  of 
course,  there  must  always  be  this  risk  of  failure. 

In  the  mere  stoppage  of  a motor  no  great  danger  is 
implied.  The  pilot  must  descend ; that  is  all.  His 
power  gone,  he  must  glide  earthward.  But  where  the 
E 


66 


LEARNING  TO  FLY 


risk  does  lie,  in  engine  failure,  is  that  it  may  occur  at  a 
moment  when  the  airman  is  in  such  a position,  either 
above  dangerous  country  or  while  over  the  sea,  that  he 
cannot  during  his  glide  reach  a place  of  safety.  A study 
of  flying  will  show  how  awkward,  and  how  perilous  on 
many  occasions,  has  been  the  stoppage  of  a motor  while 
a machine  is  in  the  air.  Two  historic  instances,  though 
they  did  not,  fortunately,  end  in  a loss  of  the  pilot’s 
life,  were  the  compulsory  descents  into  the  Channel 
made  by  the  late  Mr.  Hubert  Latham,  during  his 
attempts,  in  1909,  to  fly  from  Calais  to  Dover.  In 
both  these  cases — once  when  only  a few  miles  from  the 
French  shore,  and  on  the  second  occasion  when  the 
aeroplane  was  quite  near  its  destination — the  motor 
of  the  Antoinette  monoplane  failed  suddenly,  and  the 
aviator  could  do  nothing  but  plane  down  into  the  water. 
On  the  first  occasion  he  alighted  neatly,  suffering  no 
injury,  and  being  rescued  by  a torpedo  boat ; but  in 
the  second  descent,  striking  the  water  hard,  he  was 
thrown  forward  in  his  seat  and  his  head  injured  by  a 
strut. 

Less  fortunate,  in  a case  of  presumed  engine  failure 
that  will  become  historic,  was  Mr.  Gustave  Hamel. 
Eager  to  reach  Hendon,  so  as  to  take  part  in  the  Aerial 
Derby  on  May  23rd,  1914,  his  great  experience  of 
Channel  flying  induced  him  to  risk  the  crossing  with  a 
motor  which,  on  his  flight  from  Paris  to  the  coast,  had 
not  been  running  well.  His  monoplane  was  a fast 
machine,  and  the  flight  across  Channel  would  have 
taken  him  less  than  half  an  hour.  But  at  some  point 
during  the  crossing,  it  seems  obvious,  his  engine  failed 
him,  and  he  was  unable  to  prolong  his  glide  either  to  gain 
the  shore,  or  the  vicinity  of  a passing  ship.  His  mono- 
plane was  never  recovered  ; but  the  body  of  the  aviator 
— whose  loss  was  mourned  throughout  the  flying  world 
and  by  the  general  public  as  well — was  discovered  by 
some  fishermen  while  cruising  off  the  French  coast, 


PERILS  OF  THE  AIR 


67 

and  identified  by  means  of  a map,  clothing,  and  an 
inflated  motor-cycle  tyre ; the  last-named  being 
carried  by  the  airman  round  his  body  to  act  as  an 
improvised  life-belt. 

Engine  failure,  though  a fruitful  cause  of  minor 
accidents,  and  of  the  breakage  of  machines,  has  led 
to  few  fatalities ; and  this  has  been  due  very  largely 
to  the  fact  that,  though  machines  have  descended 
under  dangerous  circumstances,  and  have  been  wrecked 
in  a manner  that  would  appear  almost  certain  to  kill 
their  occupants,  the  pilots  and  passengers  have,  as  a 
matter  of  fact,  escaped  often  with  no  more  than  a 
shock  or  bruises.  An  aeroplane  does  not  strike  the 
ground  with  the  impact  of  a hard,  unyielding  structure. 
It  is  essentially  frail  in  its  construction  ; and  this  frail- 
ness, though  it  spells  destruction  for  the  machine  in  a 
bad  descent,  provides  at  the  same  time  an  element  of 
safety  for  its  crew.  Take  the  case  for  instance  of  a 
machine  falling  sideways,  and  striking  the  ground 
with  one  plane  or  planes.  These  planes,  built  of  nothing 
stronger  as  a rule  than  wood,  crumple  under  the  impact. 
But  in  their  collapse,  which  is  telescopic  and  to  a certain 
extent  gradual,  a large  part  of  the  shock  is  absorbed. 
By  the  time  the  fusilage  which  contains  the  pilot 
touches  ground,  the  full  force  of  the  impact  is  gone. 
And  it  is  the  same,  often,  if  a machine  makes  a bad 
landing,  say  on  awkward  ground,  and  strikes  heavily 
bow-first.  Granted  that  the  occupants  of  the  machine 
are  well-placed,  and  prevented  by  retaining  belts  from 
being  flung  from  the  machine,  they  should  escape  injury 
from  the  fact  that  there  is  so  much  to  be  broken,  in  the 
way  of  landing-gear  and  other  parts,  before  the  shock 
of  the  impact  can  reach  them  in  their  seats. 

Had  it  not  been  for  the  capacity  of  the  aeroplane 
to  alight  in  awkward  places  without  injury  to  its  pilot, 
many  lives  might  have  been  lost  through  descents  in 
which  motors  have  failed.  Aviators  have  been  obliged 


68 


LEARNING  TO  FLY 


to  land  in  most  unsuitable  places : on  the  roofs  of 

houses,  for  instance,  in  small  gardens,  and  frequently 
on  the  tops  of  trees.  If  he  finds  his  engine  fail  him  when 
he  is  over  a wood  or  forest,  and  there  is  no  chance  save 
to  descend  upon  the  trees,  a skilled  pilot  may  save  him- 
self as  a rule  from  injury.  Planing  down,  till  he  is  just 
above  the  tree-tops,  he  will  then  check  suddenly,  by 
a movement  of  his  elevator,  the  forward  speed  of  his 
machine.  The  craft  will  come  to  a standstill  in  the  air  ; 
then,  the  support  gone  from  its  planes  owing  to  the  loss 
of  forward  speed,  it  will  sink  down  almost  vertically, 
and  with  very  little  violence,  on  to  the  tops  of  the  trees. 
The  machine  itself  will  naturally  be  damaged,  seeing 
that  boughs  will  pierce  its  wings  in  many  places,  and 
that  one  or  more  of  its  planes  may  possibly  collapse. 
But  the  net  result  of  such  a landing — and  this  is  the  point 
which  is  important  for  the  pilot — is  that  the  machine 
will  be  caught  up  and  suspended  on  the  trees,  making  a 
comparatively  light  and  gradual  contact,  instead  of 
there  being  any  risk  of  its  driving  through  the  trees  and 
making  a heavy  impact  with  the  ground. 

Humour,  sometimes,  may  be  extracted  from  such  a 
predicament  as  engine  failure,  though  it  needs  an  aviator 
with  a very  deeply  ingrained  sense  of  humour  to  do 
so.  The  story  is  told,  however,  of  a pilot  who,  flying 
across  difficult  country  with  a passanger,  found  that 
his  motor  failed — as  they  often  will — just  at  a moment 
when  there  seemed  no  possible  landing-point  below. 
Looking  over  the  side  of  his  machine,  and  glancing 
quickly  here  and  there,  the  aviator  saw  no  alternative 
but  to  bring  his  craft  down  in  an  orchard  that  lay  below. 
Pointing  downward,  to  acquaint  his  passenger  with 
their  unpleasant  situation,  and  to  call  his  attention  also 
to  the  orchard,  the  pilot  said  with  a smile  • 

" I hope  you’re  fond  of  apples ! ” 

There  is  a risk  in  engine  failure  which  has  been 
emphasised  more  than  once  ; and  it  is  that  which  may 


PERILS  OF  THE  AIR  69 

attend  the  pilot  who,  while  prolonging  a glide  in  order 
to  reach  some  landing-point,  may  be  struck  by  a gust, 
or  enter  some  area  of  disturbed  wind,  just  before  he 
reaches  the  ground  and  while  his  machine,  moving 
slowly,  is  not  in  a position  to  respond  effectually  to 
its  controls.  In  one  case  an  aviator,  struggling  back 
towards  the  aerodrome  with  a motor  which  was  not  giv- 
ing its  power,  found  that  it  stopped  suddenly  when  he 
was  not  far  from  a wood.  Beyond  the  wood,  which 
stood  on  a ridge,  there  was  a stretch  of  grassland.  En- 
deavouring to  reach  this  promised  landing-point,  and 
holding  his  machine  on  a long  glide,  the  airman  came 
across  above  the  trees.  He  had  almost  reached  his 
goal  when  his  machine  entered  a sudden  down-current  of 
wind — occasioned,  no  doubt,  by  the  proximity  of  the 
trees  and  ridge.  Caught  by  this  eddy,  with  no  motive 
power  to  help  him  and  very  little  speed  on  his  machine, 
the  pilot  could  not  check  its  sudden  dive ; and  the  craft 
struck  ground  so  heavily  that  both  he  and  his  passenger 
were  killed. 

We  have  mentioned  previously,  as  a fruitful  cause 
of  accident,  that  structural  weakness  of  machines  which 
has  led,  when  conditions  have  been  unfavourable,  to 
a sudden  collapse  in  the  air.  But  apart  from  weakness 
in  construction,  and  notably  in  accidents  with  early- 
type  machines,  there  was  the  risk  attached  to  mistakes 
in  design,  which  produced  machines  which  were  un- 
stable under  certain  conditions — and  the  dangers  also 
which  were  due  to  inefficient  controlling  surfaces. 
It  was  no  uncommon  thing,  in  pioneer  days,  for  a 
machine  to  be  built  which  would  not  respond 
adequately  to  its  elevator  or  rudder ; though  this 
unpleasant  fact  might  not  be  discovered  by  the  pilot 
until  he  was  actually  in  flight,  and  perhaps  at 
some  distance  from  the  earth.  In  one  case,  which 
is  authenticated,  a two-seated  monoplane  of  a new  type 
was  tested  at  first  in  a series  of  straight  flights,  and 


70 


LEARNING  TO  FLY 


found  to  be  promising  in  its  behaviour.  A skilled 
pilot  then  took  charge  of  it,  and,  carrying  a passenger, 
proceeded  to  some  more  ambitious  flights.  Steering  the 
machine  away  across  the  aerodrome,  and  flying  at  a 
low  elevation,  he  approached  a belt  of  woods.  The 
machine  was  too  near  the  ground  to  pass  over  the  tops 
of  the  trees ; so  the  aviator  decided  to  make  a turn, 
and  fly  parallel  with  the  wood.  But  when  he  put  his 
rudder  over,  so  as  to  bring  the  machine  round  in  a 
half-circle,  he  found  to  his  dismay  that  there  was  no 
response.  In  the  design  of  the  machine,  as  it  was  found 
afterwards,  the  rudder  had  been  made  too  small : 
it  would  not  steer  the  machine  at  all.  In  the  little 
space  that  was  left  him,  and  to  avoid  crashing  into  the 
trees,  the  pilot  had  to  bring  his  craft  to  earth  in  such  an 
rbrupt  dive  that  it  was  wrecked  completely.  He  and 
the  passenger,  though,  escaped  unhurt. 

Carelessness  has,  fairly  frequently,  played  its  part 
in  aeroplane  disasters.  Sometimes  a pilot  has  been 
careless,  or  perhaps  in  a hurry,  and  has  failed  to  locate 
some  defect  which,  had  it  been  seen  and  attended  to, 
would  have  saved  a disaster  when  a machine  was  in 
flight.  Such  inattention,  which  is  sufficiently  dangerous 
in  the  handling  of  any  piece  of  mechanism,  is  deadly 
in  its  peril  when  those  who  are  guilty  of  it  navigate  the 
air.  A man  who  brings  out  a machine  time  after  time, 
and  ascends  without  examining  it  carefully,  is  adding 
vastly  to  the  risks  that  may  attend  his  flight ; and 
the  same  remark  will  apply  to  the  carelessness  of 
mechanics  ; though  as  a class,  in  view  of  the  arduous 
nature  of  their  work,  and  of  the  long  hours  they  have 
frequently  to  be  on  duty,  with  no  more  than  hasty 
intervals  for  rest,  their  average  of  care  and  accuracy 
is  very  high.  But  there  have  been  cases — mostly  in 
the  past  though — in  which  a machine  has  developed  a 
structural  defect,  or  some  defect  say  in  its  control  gear, 
which  ought  to  have  been  observed  by  its  mechanics. 


PERILS  OF  THE  AIR 


71 


but  which  has  not  been  so  detected,  and  has  led  to  a 
catastrophe  in  flight.  With  machines  built  lightly, 
and  subjected  to  heavy  strains  when  at  high  speeds, 
it  is  vital  that  the  inspection  of  such  craft,  that  the 
examination  of  every  detail  of  them,  should  be  carried 
out  in  a spirit  of  the  greatest  care.  The  fraying  through 
of  a control  wire,  unnoticed  by  those  in  charge  of  a 
machine,  has  been  sufficient  to  cause  a disaster ; 
while  carelessness  in  overhauling  a motor,  a task  of 
supreme  importance,  seeing  that  its  engine  is  the  heart 
of  an  aeroplane,  has  been  another  cause  of  accident. 
It  is  vital  that,  when  an  airman  ascends,  both  his 
machine  and  his  motor  should  be  in  perfect  working 
trim.  He  himself,  before  he  flies,  and  after  his  aero- 
plane has  been  wheeled  from  its  shed,  should  make 
it  a habit  to  look  over  the  machine,  so  as  to  impose 
his  own  personal  check  upon  the  work  his  mechanics 
have  done. 

Even  when  every  care  has  been  taken,  and  a machine 
ascends  in  perfect  trim,  there  is  the  human  factor, 
represented  by  the  pilot,  which  must  be  considered 
always  in  a study  of  aeroplane  accidents.  There  is 
often,  when  a castastrophe  seems  imminent,  a choice 
of  things  that  may  be  done.  If  an  engine  fails,  for 
instance,  under  awkward  circumstances,  the  pilot  may 
have,  say,  three  courses  open  to  him  in  regard  to  his 
descent.  Two  may  spell  disaster  and  the  third  safety. 
It  is  here  that  the  innate  judgment  of  a pilot,  combined 
with  his  experience,  will  tell  its  tale.  But  this  personal 
element  in  flying,  and  particularly  in  regard  to  an 
accident,  is  often  a very  difficult  one  for  which  to  make 
allowances. 

The  whole  problem  of  aeroplane  disasters  is,  to  the 
analyst,  one  of  unusual  complexity.  Take  for  example 
the  case  of  a pilot  who  is  flying  alone  in  his  machine, 
and  at  an  altitude  of  several  thousand  feet.  Suddenly 
something  happens ; the  machine  is  seen  to  fall  and 


72 


LEARNING  TO  FLY 


the  pilot  is  killed.  Experts  come  to  examine  the  air- 
craft, but  it  is  wrecked  so  completely  that  little  which 
is  reliable  can  be  gathered  from  any  inspection  ; while 
the  man  who  could  explain  what  has  happened — the 
pilot  of  the  machine — is  dead.  The  statements  of  eye- 
witnesses, when  taken  on  such  occasions,  are  often  mis- 
leading. One  person  heard  a crash,  and  saw  something 
fall  away  from  the  machine.  Another  declares  the 
engine  stopped  suddenly  and  that  the  machine  “ fell 
like  a stone.”  Another  says  he  is  sure  he  saw  one  of 
the  wings  fold  upwards  and  the  machine  swing  and 
fall.  And  so  on.  It  is  extremely  difficult,  even  for 
a technical  eye-witness,  to  be  sure  of  what  he  sees 
when  things  happen  quickly  and  at  a distance  from 
him ; while  the  statements  of  non-technical  people, 
who  are  not  trained  in  observation,  are  generally 
so  unreliable  as  to  be  useless. 

It  has  happened  often  therefore,  far  too  often,  in 
aeroplane  fatalities  that  have  happened  from  time  to 
time,  that  the  cause  of  such  accidents  has,  even  after 
the  most  careful  investigation,  had  to  be  written  down 
a mystery.  But  in  more  than  a few  cases,  though 
the  evidence  has  been  far  from  conclusive,  it  has  been 
considered  that  a pilot  has  been  guilty  of  some  error 
of  judgment.  There  were  puzzling  instances,  notably 
in  the  early  days  of  flying,  when  airmen  began  first 
to  make  cross-country  flights,  of  engines  being  heard 
to  fail  suddenly,  and  machines  seen  to  fall  to  destruction. 
That  engines  should  break  down  was  not  surprising ; 
they  were  doing  so  constantly  ; but  there  was  no  reason 
why,  even  if  they  did  fail,  a machine  should  fall 
helplessly  instead  of  gliding.  But  what  was  thought 
to  have  happened,  in  more  than  one  of  these  cases, 
was  that  the  pilot,  through  an  error  of  judgment,  had 
failed  to  get  down  the  bow  of  his  machine  when  his 
motor  gave  signs  of  stopping.  The  craft  concerned 
were,  it  should  be  mentioned,  " pusher  ” biplanes ; 


PERILS  OF  THE  AIR 


73 


and  the  same  rule  applied  to  them,  in  cases  of  engine 
failure,  as  has  been  explained  in  a previous  chapter, 
and  as  is  emphasised  nowadays  in  the  instruction  of 
the  novice.  But  in  those  days  the  beginner  had  fre- 
quently to  learn,  not  from  wise  tuition,  but  from  bitter 
experience  ; and  he  was  lucky,  often,  if  he  learned  his 
lesson  and  still  retained  his  life.  On  certain  early- 
type  biplanes,  for  instance,  machines  with  large  tail- 
planes,  and  engined  as  a rule  by  a motor  which  was 
giving  less  than  its  proper  amount  of  power,  it  was 
most  dangerous  for  a pilot  if,  on  observing  any  signs 
of  failing  in  his  engine,  he  sought  to  fly  on  in  the  hope 
that  the  motor  would  “ pick  up  ” again,  and  continue 
its  work.  Directly  there  was  a tendency  of  the  motor 
to  miss-fire,  or  lessen  in  the  number  of  its  revolutions  per 
minute,  the  consequent  reduction  of  the  propeller 
draught,  as  it  acted  on  the  tail  of  the  machine,  would 
cause  this  tail  to  droop,  and  the  machine  to  assume 
very  quickly  a dangerous  position.  And  when  once 
it  began  to  get  tail-down,  as  pilots  found  to  their  cost, 
there  was  nothing  to  be  done.  The  machine  lost  what 
little  forward  speed  it  had,  and  either  fell  tail-first,  or 
slipped  down  sideways.  Such  risks  as  these,  which 
were  very  real,  were  rendered  worse  owing  to  the  fact 
that,  in  much  of  the  cross  country  flying  of  the  early 
days,  pilots  flew  too  low.  They  lacked  the  confidence 
of  those  who  followed  them,  and  were  too  prone  to 
hug  the  earth,  instead  of  attaining  altitude.  It  was 
not  realised  clearly  then,  as  it  is  now,  that  in  height  lies 
safety.  And  so  when  a machine  lost  headway  through 
engine  failure,  and  was  not  put  quickly  enough  into  a 
glide,  it  happened  often  that  it  had  come  in  contact 
with  the  earth,  and  had  been  wrecked,  before  there  was 
any  chance  for  the  pilot  to  regain  control,  or  for  the 
machine  itself Ato  exhaust  its  side-slip,  and  come  back 
to  anything  like  a normal  position. 

But  the  failure  of  the  human  factor  in  flying,  the  lack 


74 


LEARNING  TO  FLY 


of  skill  of  a pilot  that  may  lead  to  disaster,  is  shown 
by  statistics  to  play  no  more  than  a small  part,  when 
accidents  are  studied  in  numbers  and  in  detail.  Some 
time  before  the  war,  in  an  analysis  of  the  accidents  that 
had  befallen  aviators  in  France — accidents  concerning 
which  there  was  adequate  data — it  was  shown  that 
only  15  per  cent,  of  them  could  be  attributed  to  a failure 
in  judgment  or  skill  on  the  part  of  the  pilot. 

Apart  from  errors,  however,  in  what  may  be  called 
legitimate  piloting,  there  have  been  regrettable 
accidents  due  to  trick  or  fancy  flying.  Putting  a 
machine  through  a series  of  evolutions,  to  interest  and 
amuse  spectators,  is  not  of  course  in  itself  to  be  con- 
demned. In  such  flying,  and  notably  for  instance  in 
“ looping  the  loop,”  facts  were  learnt  concerning  the 
navigation  of  the  air,  and  as  to  the  apparently  hopeless 
positions  from  which  an  aeroplane  would  extricate 
itself,  which  were  of  very  high  value,  from  both  a 
scientific  and  practical  standpoint.  Public  interest  in 
aviation  was  increased  also  by  such  displays  ; and  it  is 
very  necessary  that  there  should  be  public  interest  in 
flying,  seeing  that  it  is  the  public  which  is  asked  to  pay 
for  the  development  of  our  air-fleets.  But  the  man  who 
undertakes  exhibition  flying  needs  not  only  to  be  a 
highly-skilled  pilot,  but  a man  also  of  an  exceptional 
temperament — a man  whose  familiarity  with  the  air 
never  leads  him  into  a contempt  for  its  hidden  dangers  ; 
a man  who  will  not,  even  though  he  is  called  on  to 
repeat  a feat  time  after  time,  abate  in  any  way  the 
precautions  which  may  be  necessary  for  his  safety. 
In  looping  the  loop,  for  instance,  or  in  upside-down 
flying,  it  is  necessary  always  that  the  aeroplane  should 
be  at  a certain  minimum  height  above  the  ground. 
Then,  should  anything  unexpected  happen,  and  the 
pilot  lose  command  temporarily  over  his  machine,  he 
knows  he  has  a certain  distance  which  he  may  fall, 
before  striking  the  ground ; and  during  this  fall  the 


PERILS  OF  THE  AIR 


75 


natural  stability  of  his  machine,  aided  by  his  own 
operation  of  the  guiding  surfaces,  may  bring  it  back 
again  within  control.  But  if  he  has  been  tempted  to 
fly  too  near  the  ground,  and  has  ignored  for  the  moment 
this  vital  precaution,  and  if  something  happens  for 
which  he  is  not  prepared,  then  the  impact  may  come 
before  he  can  do  anything  to  save  himself. 

In  the  early  days  of  flying,  when  aviators  attempted 
an  acrobatic  feat,  they  ran  a far  heavier  risk  than 
would  be  the  case  to-day ; and  for  the  simple  reason 
that  their  machines,  not  having  a strength  sufficient 
to  withstand  any  abnormal  stresses,  were  likely  to 
collapse  in  the  air  if  they  were  made  to  dive  too  rapidly, 
or  placed  suddenly  at  any  angle  which  threw  a heavy 
strain  on  their  planes.  A machine  for  exhibition 
flying  needs  to  be  constructed  specially ; but  this  was 
not  realised  till  accidents  had  taught  their  lesson. 

It  is  a regrettable  fact,  one  which  emerges  directly 
from  a study  of  aeroplane  accidents,  that  many  of 
them  might  have  been  avoided  had  men  been  content 
to  follow  warily  in  the  footsteps  of  the  pioneers,  and 
not  run  heavy  risks  till  they  themselves,  and  the 
machines  they  controlled,  had  been  prepared,  by  a 
long  period  of  steady  flying,  to  meet  such  greater 
dangers.  The  first  men  who  flew  realised  fully  the 
risks  they  ran.  But  when  flying  became  more 
general,  and  men  found  machines  ready  to  their 
hands,  machines  which  it  was  a simple  matter  to  learn 
to  fly,  this  early  spirit  of  caution  was  forsaken,  and 
feats  were  attempted  which  brought  fatalities  in  their 
train,  and  which  seemed  to  emphasise  the  risks  of 
aviation,  and  did  it  the  very  bad  service  that  they  fixed 
in  the  public  mind  a notion  of  its  dangers,  and  prevented 
men  from  coming  forward  to  take  up  flying  as  a sport. 


CHAPTER  VIII 


FACTORS  THAT  MAKE  FOR  SAFETY 

It  has  been  calculated  that  nearly  half  the  aeroplane 
disasters  of  the  early  days  were  due  to  a structural 
weakness  in  machines,  or  to  mistakes  either  in  their 
design,  or  in  such  details  as  the  position,  shape,  and 
size  of  their  surfaces.  To-day,  thanks  to  science, 
and  to  the  growing  skill  and  experience  of  aeroplane 
designers  and  constructors,  this  risk  of  the  collapse  of 
a machine  in  the  air,  or  of  its  failure  to  respond  to  its 
controls  at  some  critical  moment  through  an  error  in 
design,  has  been  to  a large  extent  eliminated.  That 
such  risks  should  be  eliminated  wholly  is,  as  yet,  too 
much  to  expect. 

One  of  the  factors  making  for  safety  has  been  the 
steady  growth  in  the  general  efficiency  of  aircraft : 
in  the  curve  of  their  wings  which,  as  a result  largely 
of  scientific  research,  has  been  made  to  yield  a greater 
lift  for  a given  surface  and  to  offer  a minimum  of 
resistance  to  their  passage  through  the  air  ; in  the  power 
and  reliability  of  their  engines  ; in  the  efficiency  of  their 
propellers ; and  in  the  shaping  of  the  fusilage  of  a 
machine,  and  in  the  placing  and  “ stream-lining  ” of 
such  parts  as  meet  the  air,  so  as  to  reduce  the  head 
resistance  which  is  encountered  at  high  speeds.  Such 
gains  in  efficiency,  which  give  constructors  more  latitude 
in  the  placing  of  weight  and  strength  where  experience 
show  they  are  needed,  have  gone  far  to  produce  an 
airworthy  machine.  In  the  old  days,  when  machines 
were  inefficient,  a few  revolutions  more  or  less  per 

76 


FACTORS  THAT  MAKE  FOR  SAFETY  77 

minute  in  the  running  of  an  engine  meant  all  the 
difference  between  an  ascent  and  merely  passing  along 
the  ground.  But  nowadays,  through  the  all-round 
increase  in  efficiency  that  has  been  obtained,  a 
machine  will  still  fly  upon  its  course  without  losing 
altitude,  and  respond  to  its  controls,  even  should  the 
number  of  revolutions  per  minute  of  its  engine  be 
reduced  considerably. 

When  given  a greater  efficiency  in  lifting  surfaces 
and  power-plants — and  profiting  also  from  the  lessons 
that  had  been  learnt  in  the  piloting  of  machines — 
constructors  were  able  to  devote  their  attention,  and 
to  do  so  with  certainty  instead  of  in  a haphazard  way, 
to  the  provision  of  factors  of  safety  when  a craft  was 
in  flight.  With  a machine  of  any  given  type,  if 
driven  through  the  air  at  a certain  speed,  it  is  possible 
to  estimate  with  accuracy  what  the  normal  strains 
will  be  to  which  it  is  subjected.  But  even  if  such  data 
are  obtained,  and  the  machine  given  the  strength 
indicated,  this  factor  of  safety  is  insufficient.  It  is 
not  so  much  the  normal  strains,  as  those  which  are 
abnormal,  that  must  be  guarded  against  in  flight.  A 
high-speed  machine,  if  piloted  on  a day  when  the  air 
is  turbulent,  may  be  subjected  to  extraordinarily 
heavy  strains  ; rising  many  feet  in  the  air  one  moment, 
falling  again  the  next,  and  being  met  suddenly  by 
vicious  gusts  of  wind — in  much  the  same  way  that  a 
fast-moving  ship,  when  fighting  its  way  through  a 
rough  sea,  is  beaten  and  buffeted  by  the  waves.  Air 
waves  have  not  of  course  the  weight,  when  they 
deliver  a blow,  that  lies  behind  a mass  of  water; 
but  that  these  wind-waves  attain  sometimes  an 
abnormal  speed,  and  have  a tremendous  power  of 
destruction,  is  shown  in  the  havoc  that  is  caused 
by  hurricanes. 

It  seems  astonishing  to  many  people  that  such  a frail 
machine  as  the  aeroplane,  with  its  outspread  wings 


LEARNING  TO  FLY 


78 

containing  nothing  stronger  often  than  wooden  spars  and 
ribs,  covered  by  a cotton  fabric,  should  be  capable  of 
being  driven  through  the  air  at  such  a speed,  say,  as  100 
miles  an  hour,  encountering  not  only  the  pressure  of 
the  air,  but  resisting  also  the  fluctuations  to  which 
it  may  be  subjected.  But,  underlying  the  lightness 
and  apparent  frailty  of  such  a wing,  when  one  sees  it 
in  the  workshop  in  its  skeleton  form,  before  it  has  been 
clothed  in  fabric,  there  is  a skill  in  construction,  and 
an  experience  in  the  choice,  selection,  and  working  of 
woods,  that  produces  a structure  which,  for  all  its 
fragile  appearance,  is  amazingly  strong.  And  the 
same  applies,  nowadays,  to  all  the  other  parts  of  an 
aeroplane.  That  it  should  have  taken  years  to  gain 
such  strength,  and  to  reduce  so  largely  the  risk  of 
breakage,  is  not  in  itself  surprising.  Men  had  to 
devise  new  methods  in  construction — always  with  the 
knowledge  that  weight  must  be  saved — and  to  create 
new  factors  of  safety,  before  they  could  build  an  air- 
worthy craft. 

To-day,  when  a man  flies,  he  need  have  no  lurking 
fear,  as  had  the  pioneers,  that  his  craft  may  break  in 
the  air.  Even  when  it  is  driven  through  a gale, 
plunging  in  the  rushes  of  the  wind,  yet  held  straining 
to  its  task  by  the  power  of  its  motor,  the  modern 
aeroplane  can  be  relied  upon ; and  not  in  one  detail 
of  its  construction,  but  in  every  part.  Experience, 
the  researches  of  science,  and  the  growing  skill  with 
which  aircraft  are  built,  stand  between  the  airman 
and  many  of  his  previous  dangers.  The  aeroplane 
to-day,  one  of  the  structural  triumphs  of  the  world  in 
its  lightness  and  its  strength,  has  a factor  of  safety 
which  is  sufficient  to  meet,  and  to  withstand,  not 
merely  ordinary  strains,  but  any  such  abnormal 
stresses  as  it  may  encounter — and  which  may  be  many 
times  greater  than  the  strains  of  normal  flight. 

The  aviator  knows  also  that  his  engine,  as  it  gives 


FACTORS  THAT  MAKE  FOR  SAFETY  79 

him  power  to  combat  successfully  his  treacherous 
enemy,  the  wind,  represents  the  fruit  of  many  tests  and 
of  many  failures,  and  of  the  spending  of  hundreds 
of  thousands  of  pounds.  Many  of  its  defects  have 
revealed  themselves,  and  been  rectified ; it  is  no 
longer  light  where  it  should  have  weight  of  metal,  nor 
weak  where  it  should  be  strong.  So  far  as  any  piece  of 
mechanism  can  be  made  reliable,  consisting  as  it  does 
of  a large  number  of  delicate  parts,  operating  at  high 
speed,  the  aeroplane  motor  has  been  made  reliable. 
But,  so  long  as  one  motor  is  used,  there  must  always, 
as  we  have  said,  remain  a risk  of  breakdown.  It  is 
for  this  reason  that,  thanks  largely  to  the  stimulus  of 
the  war — which  has  created  a practical  demand  for 
such  machines — aeroplanes  are  now  being  built,  and 
flown  with  success,  which  are  fitted  with  duplicate 
motors.  With  such  machines,  which  give  us  a first 
insight  as  to  the  aircraft  of  the  future,  engine  failure 
begins  to  lose  its  perils — particularly  in  regard  to  war. 
More  than  once  during  the  great  campaign,  when 
flying  a single-engine  machine,  an  aviator  has  found 
his  motor  fail  him,  and  has  been  obliged  to  land  on 
hostile  soil ; with  the  result  that  he  has  been  made 
prisoner.  But  with  dual-engine  machines  it  has  been 
found  that,  when  one  motor  has  failed  mechanically, 
or  has  been  put  out  of  action  by  shrapnel,  the  remaining 
unit  has  been  sufficient — though  the  machine  has  flown 
naturally  at  a reduced  rate — to  enable  the  pilot  to 
regain  his  own  lines. 

In  peace  flying,  too,  as  well  as  in  war,  the  multiple- 
engined  aeroplane  brings  a new  factor  of  safety.  If 
one  of  his  motors  fails,  and  he  is  over  country  which 
offers  no  suitable  landing-place,  the  pilot  with  a 
duplicate  power-plant  need  not  be  concerned.  His 
remaining  unit  or  units  will  carry  him  on.  There  are 
problems  with  duplicate  engines  which  remain  to  be 
solved — problems  of  a technical  nature — which  involve 


8o 


LEARNING  TO  FLY 


general  efficiency,  transmission  gear,  and  the  number 
and  the  placing  of  propellers  ; but  already,  though  this 
new  stride  in  aviation  is  in  its  earliest  infancy,  results 
that  are  most  promising  have  been  obtained. 

To  those  who  study  aviation,  and  have  done  so 
constantly,  say  from  the  year  1909,  one  of  the  most 
striking  signs  of  progress  lies  in  the  fact  that,  though 
unable  at  first  to  fly  even  in  the  lightest  winds,  the 
aviator  of  to-day  will  fight  successfully  against  a 60 
miles-an-hour  wind,  and  will  do  battle  if  need  be,  once 
he  is  well  aloft,  with  a gale  which  has  a velocity  of 
90  miles  an  hour.  He  will  ascend  indeed,  and  fly,  in 
any  wind  that  permits  him  to  take  his  machine  from 
the  ground  into  the  air,  or  which  the  motor  of  his  craft 
will  allow  it  to  make  headway  against.  And  here, 
though  machines  are  still  experimental,  there  is  removed 
at  one  stroke  the  earliest  and  the  most  positive  objec- 
tion of  those  who  criticised  a man’s  power  to  fly. 
When  the  first  aeroplanes  flew  the  sceptics  said  : “You 
have  still  to  conquer  the  wind,  and  that  you  will  never 
do.  Aeroplanes  will  be  built  to  fly  only  in  favourable 
weather,  and  this  will  limit  their  use  so  greatly  that 
they  will  have  no  significance.  ” But  to-day  the  aviator 
has  ceased,  one  might  almost  say,  to  be  checked  or 
hampered  by  the  wind.  If  the  need  is  urgent,  as  it 
often  is  in  war,  then  it  will  be  nothing  less  than  a 
gale  that  will  keep  a pilot  to  the  ground,  provided  he 
has  a sufficiently  powerful  machine,  and  a suitable 
ground  from  which  to  rise — and  granted  also  that  he 
has  no  long  distance  to  fly.  Wind-flying  resolves 
itself  into  a question  of  having  ample  engine-power, 
of  being  able  to  launch  a machine  without  accident, 
and  get  it  to  earth  again  without  mishap ; and  of  being 
able  to  make  a reasonable  headway  against  the  wind 
when  once  aloft;  and  these  difficulties  should  solve 
themselves,  as  larger  and  heavier  machines  are  built. 

Apart  from  the  growing  skill  of  the  aviator,  which 


FACTORS  THAT  MAKE  FOR  SAFETY  81 


has  been  bought  dearly,  science  can  now  give  him  a 
machine,  when  he  is  in  a wind,  that  needs  no  exhausting 
effort  to  hold  it  in  flight.  Craft  are  built,  as  a 
matter  of  certainty  and  routine,  which  have  an  auto- 
matic stability.  Science  has  made  it  possible  indeed, 
by  a mere  shaping  and  placing  of  surfaces,  and  without 
the  aid  of  mechanical  devices,  to  give  an  aeroplane  such 
a natural  and  inherent  stability  that,  when  it  is  assailed 
by  wind  gusts  in  flight,  it  will  exercise  itself  an  adequate 
correcting  influence.  To  understand  what  this  means  it 
should  be  realised  that,  when  such  a machine  is  in 
flight  say  in  war  on  a strategical  reconnaissance,  and 
carries  pilot  and  passenger,  the  former  can  take  it  to  a 
suitable  altitude  and  then  set  and  lock  his  controls,  and 
afterwards  devote  his  time,  in  common  with  that  of  his 
passenger,  to  the  making  of  observations  or  the  writing 
of  notes.  The  machine  meanwhile  flies  itself,  adapting 
itself  automatically  to  all  the  differences  of  wind 
pressure  which,  if  it  had  not  this  natural  stability, 
would  need  a constant  action  of  the  pilot  to  overcome. 
All  he  need  do  is  to  maintain  it  on  its  course  by  an 
occasional  movement  of  the  rudder.  With  such  a 
machine,  even  on  a day  when  there  is  a rough  and 
gusty  wind,  it  is  possible  for  an  airman  to  fly  for 
hours  without  fatigue ; whereas  with  a machine  which  is 
not  automatically  stable,  and  needs  a ceaseless  operation 
of  its  controls,  the  physical  exhaustion  of  a pilot, 
after  hours  of  flight,  is  very  severe. 

So,  already,  one  sees  these  factors  of  safety  emerge 
and  take  their  place.  There  is  no  longer  a grave  peril 
of  machines  breaking  in  the  air ; there  need  be  no 
longer,  with  duplicate  power-plants,  the  constant 
risk  of  engine  failing ; while  that  implacable  and 
treacherous  foe,  the  wind,  is  being  robbed  daily  of 
its  perils. 


v 


CHAPTER  IX 


A STUDY  OF  THE  METHODS  OF  GREAT  PILOTS 

The  masters  of  flying,  and  this  is  a fact  the  novice 
should  ponder  well,  have  been  conspicuous  almost 
invariably  for  their  prudence.  No  matter  how  great 
has  been  their  personal  skill,  they  have  never  lost  their 
respect  for  the  air ; and  this  is  why  so  many  of  the 
great  flyers,  after  running  the  heaviest  of  risks  in  their 
pioneer  work,  have  managed  to  escape  with  their  lives. 
What  patience  and  sound  judgment  can  accomplish, 
when  pitted  even  against  such  dangers  as  must  be 
faced  by  an  experimeter  when  he  seeks  to  fly,  is  shown 
by  an  incident  from  the  early  career  of  the  Wright 
brothers.  With  one  of  their  gliders,  a necessarily 
frail  machine,  and  in  tests  made  when  they  were  both 
complete  novices,  they  managed  to  make  nearly  1000 
glides  ; and  not  once  in  all  those  flights,  during  which 
they  were  learning  the  rudiments  of  balance  and  control, 
did  they  have  a mishap  which  damaged  at  all  seriously 
their  machine. 

These  two  brothers,  Wilbur  and  Orville,  offer  to  the 
student  of  flying,  apart  from  the  historical  interest 
which  is  attached  to  their  work,  a temperamental 
study  of  the  greatest  interest.  Wilbur,  who  was  grave, 
judicial — a man  of  infinite  patience  and  with  an  excep- 
tional power  of  lucid  thinking — found  in  his  brother 
and  co-worker,  Orville,  a disposition  just  such  as  was 
necessary  to  strengthen  and  support  him  in  his  great 
research ; a disposition  more  tVivacious  and  more 
enthusiastic  than  his,  and  one  which  acted  as  a balance 

82 


A STUDY  OF  METHODS  83 

to  his  own  gravity.  The  method  of  these  brothers  in 
first  attacking  a mass  of  data,  most  of  it  contradictory 
— and  a large  amount  of  it  of  little  intrinsic  value — 
and  then  framing  their  own  research  on  lines  which 
they  discussed  and  studied  with  methodical  care,  forms 
a model  of  sound  judgment  for  workers  in  any  complex 
field.  Their  kite  experiments,  their  gliders,  their 
refusal  to  hasten  their  steps  unduly  in  the  fitting  of 
an  engine  to  their  machine,  reveal  again  their  discre- 
tion, and  that  judgment  which  never  failed  them. 
Perseveringly  and  unswervingly,  exhibiting  doggedness 
without  obstinacy,  and  with  their  work  illuminated 
always  by  the  highest  intelligence,  they  moved  surely 
from  stage  to  stage ; and  at  last,  when  they  fitted  a 
motor  to  their  machine,  such  was  their  knowledge  of 
the  air,  and  of  the  control  of  their  craft  when  in  flight, 
that  they  were  able  to  make  this  crucial  step,  from  a 
glider  to  a machine  driven  by  power,  without  any 
breakage  of  their  apparatus  or  injury  to  themselves. 

The  same  self-control  marked  them  when,  having 
demonstrated  that  men  can  ascend  in  a power-driven 
machine,  and  steer  such  a craft  at  will,  they  dismantled 
their  apparatus  and  commenced  their  negotiations 
with  foreign  Governments.  Wilbur  Wright,  too,  when 
he  came  to  France  to  give  his  first  public  demonstra- 
tions, provided  by  his  methods  a model  for  aviators, 
either  present  or  future.  He  resisted  all  temptations 
to  make  injudicious  flights.  If  he  considered  the 
weather  conditions  at  all  unsuitable  he  said  that  he 
would  not  ascend,  no  matter  who  might  have  come  to 
see  him  fly,  and  that  settled  the  question  once  and  for 
all.  He  was  deaf  to  all  pleadings,  to  all  proffered 
advice.  When  conditions  were  perfectly  suitable, 
and  then  only,  would  he  have  his  craft  brought  from 
its  shed. 

The  same  meticulous  care,  in  every  flight  he  made, 
marked  his  preparation  of  his  machine.  Motor, 


LEARNING  TO  FLY 


84 

controls,  propeller-gearing,  every  vital  part,  received 
its  due  attention ; and  this  attention  was  never 
relaxed,  no  matter  how  frequently  he  flew,  nor  how 
great  was  his  success.  An  observer  of  one  of  his  early 
flights  at  Le  Mans  has  given  us  an  impression  that  is 
typical  of  this  unremitting  care.  There  was  a question 
of  some  small  adjustment  that  Wilbur  had  instructed 
should  be  made  to  the  machine.  When  the  time 
came  to  fly,  and  he  was  in  the  driving-seat  waiting  for 
the  motor  to  be  started,  he  called  a question  as  to 
whether  this  detail  had  been  attended  to.  He  was 
assured  it  had.  But  this  was  not  enough  for  Wilbur 
Wright.  Climbing  from  his  seat  and  walking  round 
the  biplane,  he  made  a careful  examination  for  himself, 
and  then  returned  quietly  to  the  front  of  the  machine. 
People  who  came  to  see  him  fly,  and  expected  some 
picturesque  hero,  leaping  lightly  into  his  machine  and 
sweeping  through  the  air,  found  that  reality  disappointed 
them.  This  quiet,  unassuming  man,  who  slept  in  his 
shed  near  his  aeroplane,  and  took  his  meals  there  also, 
refused  to  be  feted  or  made  a fuss  of  ; while  his  deliber- 
ation in  regard  to  every  flight,  and  his  indifference  to 
the  wishes  or  convenience  of  those  who  were  watching 
him,  drove  nearly  frantic  some  of  those  influential 
people  who,  coming  in  motor-cars  and  with  a patron- 
ising spirit,  thought  the  aviator  might  be  treated  rather 
as  a superior  mountebank,  who  would  be  only  too  glad 
to  come  out  and  fly  when  a distinguished  guest  arrived. 

M.  Louis  Bleriot,  whose  name  was  next  to  become 
world-famous,  after  that  of  the  Wrights,  and  who  owed 
his  distinction  to  his  crossing  of  the  English  Channel 
by  air,  revealed  in  his  character  determination  and 
courage,  and  imagination  as  well.  And  yet  allied  to 
these  qualities — and  here  lay  his  temperamental 
strength — he  had  a spirit  of  quiet  calculation  and  a 
eery  considerable  shrewdness.  He  knew,  and  was  not 
afraid  of  showing  that  he  knew,  the  full  value  of  caution. 


A STUDY  OF  METHODS  85 

And  yet  on  occasion  also — as  in  the  cross-Channel 
flight — he  was  ready  to  put  everything  to  the  test,  and 
to  take  promptly  and  with  full  knowledge  the  heaviest 
of  risks.  The  motor  in  his  cross-Channel  monoplane 
was  an  experimental  one  of  low  power,  air-cooled,  and 
prone  to  over-heat  and  lose  power  after  only  a short 
period  of  running.  To  cross  the  Channel,  even  under 
the  most  favourable  circumstances,  he  knew  this  engine 
must  run  without  breakdown  for  thirty-five  or  forty 
minutes.  This  it  had  not  done — at  any  rate  in  the  air 
— before.  There  was  a strong  probability — and  Bleriot 
knew  this  better  than  anyone  else — that  the  motor  would 
fail  before  he  reached  the  English  shore,  and  that  he 
would  have  to  glide  down  into  the  sea.  It  was  arranged 
that  a torpedo-boat-destroyer  should  follow  him,  and 
this  afforded  an  element  of  safety.  But  Bleriot 
guessed — as  was  actually  the  case — that  he  would  out- 
distance this  vessel  in  his  flight,  and  soon  be  lost  to  the 
view  of  those  upon  it.  And  he  did  not  deceive  himself 
as  to  what  might  happen,  if  his  engine  stopped  and  he 
fell  into  the  water.  His  monoplane,  as  it  lay  on  the 
surface  of  the  water,  would,  he  knew,  prove  a very 
difficult  object  to  locate  by  any  vessel  searching  for  it ; 
while  it  was  so  frail  that  it  would  not  withstand  for 
long  the  buffeting  of  the  waves.  He  carried  an  air- 
bag fixed  inside  the  fusilage,  it  is  true ; but,  in  spite  of 
this  precaution,  Bleriot  knew  he  ran  a very  grave  peril 
of  being  drowned.  There  was,  on  the  morning  of  his 
flight,  another  disturbing  factor  to  be  reckoned  with. 
The  wind,  calm  enough  when  he  first  determined  to 
start,  began  very  quickly  to  rise  ; and  by  the  time  he 
had  motored  from  Calais  to  the  spot  where  his  aeroplane 
lay,  and  the  machine  itself  was  ready  for  flight,  the 
wind  out  to  sea  was  so  strong  that  the  waves  had 
become  white-capped.  But  Bleriot,  aware  of  the 
value  at  such  moments  of  decision,  had  made  up  his 
mind.  He  knew  that,  if  his  engine  only  served  him, 


86 


LEARNING  TO  FLY 


his  flight  would  be  quickly  made.  And  so  he  reckoned 
that,  even  though  the  wind  was  rising,  he  would  be 
able  to  complete  his  journey  before  it  had  become  high 
enough  seriously  to  inconvenience  him ; and  in  this 
calculation,  as  events  proved,  he  was  right.  His 
motor  did  its  work ; and,  though  the  wind  tossed  his 
machine  dangerously  when  he  came  near  the  cliffs  of 
the  English  coast,  he  succeeded  in  making  a landing 
and  in  winning  the  £1000  prize. 

M.  Hubert  Latham,  Bleriot’s  competitor  in  the  cross- 
Channel  flight,  had  that  peculiar  outlook  on  life,  with 
its  blend  of  positive  and  negative — puzzling  often  to  its 
owner  as  well  as  to  the  onlooker — that  is  called,  for  the 
sake  of  calling  it  something,  the  artistic  temperament. 
He  was  impulsive,  yet  impassive  often  to  a disconcerting 
extent : extremely  sensitive  and  reserved  as  a rule, 
yet  on  occasion  almost  boyishly  frank  and  communi- 
cative. He  lacked  entirely  ordinary  shrewdness,  or 
everyday  commonsense.  He  was  a man  of  a deeply 
romantic  temperament,  and  this  inclined  him  towards 
aviation  and  the  conquest  of  the  air  ; while  in  actual 
piloting  he  had  such  a quickness  and  delicacy  of  touch, 
and  such  a sure  and  instinctive  judgment  of  distance 
and  of  speed,  that  he  was  undoubtedly  a born  aviator 
— one  of,  if  not  the,  finest  the  world  has  seen.  That 
he  did  not  attain  greater  success,  from  a practical 
point  of  view,  was  due  to  the  fact  that  he  was  without 
the  level-headedness  and  the  business  ability  which 
characterised  others  of  the  pioneers.  When  he  was  in 
flight  in  his  Antoinette — Latham  flew  that  machine 
and  no  other — he  was  a supreme  artist.  His  machine 
was  beautiful,  and  his  handling  of  it  was  beautiful. 

M.  Henri  Farman,  beyond  question,  of  course,  another 
of  the  great  pioneers,  is  a man  of  imagination  and  of  a 
highly  nervous  temperament,  yet  possessing  at  the 
same  time  a very  pronounced  vein  of  caution.  No 
success  has  for  an  instant  caused  him  to  lose  his  head. 


A STUDY  OF  METHODS  87 

At  Rheims,  in  1909,  when  he  had  created  a world’s 
record  by  flying  for  more  than  three  hours  without 
alighting,  those  who  hastened  to  congratulate  him, 
after  his  descent,  found  him  absolutely  normal  and 
unmoved.  Washing  his  hands  at  a little  basin  in 
the  corner  of  the  shed,  he  discussed  very  quietly  and 
yet  interestedly,  and  entirely  without  any  affectation 
of  nonchalance,  the  details  of  his  flight  and  the  behaviour 
of  his  motor.  His  attitude  was  that  the  flight  was 
something,  yet  not  a great  deal,  and  that  very  much 
more  remained  to  be  done ; a perfectly  right  and 
proper  attitude,  one  which  was  just  as  it  should  be, 
yet.  one  encountered  very  rarely  under  such  circum- 
stances— human  nature  being  what  it  is. 

Farman’s  patience,  his  perseverance,  were  in  the 
very  early  days  what  gave  him  his  first  success.  With 
the  biplane  the  Voisins  built  him,  for  example,  nothing 
but  his  own  determination,  and  his  ceaseless  work  upon 
his  engine,  enabled  him  to  do  more  with  this  type  of 
machine  than  others  had  done. 

As  the  aeroplane  increased  in  efficiency,  and  in  the 
reliability  of  its  engine,  and  was  used  in  cross-country 
journeys,  there  came  an  era  of  flying  contests,  in  which 
large  prizes  were  offered,  and  in  which  airmen  passed 
between  cities  and  across  frontiers,  and  traversed 
in  their  voyages  the  greater  part  of  Europe.  In  the 
making  of  these  flights,  which  needed  an  exceptional 
determination  and  skill,  allied  also  to  a perfect 
bodily  fitness,  there  came  into  prominence  certain 
aviators  whose  precision  in  their  daily  flights,  passing 
across  country  with  the  speed  and  regularity  of  ex- 
press trains,  won  admiration  throughout  the  world. 
Prominent  among  these  champions  was  the  French  naval 
officer,  Lieut.  J.  Conneau,  who  adopted  in  his  contests 
the  flying  name  of  “ Beaumont.”  His  success  and  his 
exactitude,  when  piloting  a Bleriot  monoplane  for 
long  distances  above  unknown  countr y,  guiding  himself 


88 


LEARNING  TO  FLY 


by  map  and  compass,  gave  the  public  an  indication, 
for  the  first  time,  of  what  might  be  accomplished  by 
an  expert  airman  when  flying  a reliable  machine. 
Lieut.  Conneau’s  success,  winning  as  he  did  several 
of  the  great  contests  one  after  another,  and  the  absence 
of  error  in  his  flying  from  stage  to  stage,  and  his  accurate 
landings  upon  strange  and  often  badly-surfaced  aero- 
dromes, should  provide  for  the  novice  in  aviation — 
when  the  secret  of  this  success  is  understood — an  object- 
lesson  that  is  of  value. 

This  quiet,  efficient  airman,  and  his  methods  in 
making  himself  so  competent,  afford  indeed  an  interest- 
ing study.  Here  was  one  who,  suited  already  by 
temperament  for  the  tasks  he  undertook,  trained  him- 
self with  such  care,  with  such  patience,  that  he  attained 
as  nearly  to  the  ideal  as  is  possible  for  living  man. 
When  he  had  asked  for,  and  obtained,  permission 
from  the  Minister  of  Marine  to  study  aviation  in  all 
its  aspects,  he  began  his  task  in  a spirit  that  was  ad- 
mirable. “ I was  convinced,”  he  wrote  afterwards, 
“ that  a perfect  knowledge  of  machines  and  motors 
was  necessary  before  one  could  use  them.”  For  nearly  a 
year,  on  leaving  the  sea,  he  worked  to  obtain  a certifi- 
cate as  a practical  engineer.  This  gained,  he  went 
through  a period  of  motor-cycling  and  motor-car 
driving,  varied  by  flights  in  captive  balloons  and  free 
balloons,  and  afterwards  in  airships.  Following  this 
he  obtained  leave  to  stay  for  a time  at  Argenteuil, 
and  enter  the  works  of  the  builders  of  the  Gnome 
motor.  Here  he  lived  the  life  of  a mechanic,  and 
learned  to  understand  completely  the  operation  of 
this  famous  engine,  which  he  was  destined  to  drive 
afterwards  in  his  great  flights. 

Presently  he  went  to  Pau,  in  order  to  obtain  his 
certificate  as  an  aeroplane  pilot.  At  first,  taking  his 
turn  with  a number  of  other  pupils,  he  could  only  get 
a few  minutes  at  a time  in  a machine.  But  being  a keen 


A STUDY  OF  METHODS 


89 

observer  he  found  that,  by  listening  to  the  instructors, 
and  watching  the  flights  made,  he  could  pick  up  useful 
information  without  being  in  the  air ; and  this  led 
him  to  the  observation  that  “ to  learn  to  fly  quickly, 
one  must  begin  by  staying  on  the  ground.” 

He  secured  in  due  course  his  certificate  of  proficiency, 
astonishing  the  instructors  by  his  skill  and  sureness 
in  the  handling  of  his  machine.  Then  followed  what 
might  be  called  an  apprenticeship  to  cross-country 
flying.  He  made  constant  flights  in  all  weathers, 
flying  for  instance  from  Pau  to  Paris,  and  studying 
closely  not  only  the  piloting  of  his  machine  and  the 
aerial  conditions  he  encountered,  but  also  the  art  of 
using  a map  and  compass,  and  in  finding  a path  without 
deviation  from  point  to  point.  Improving  daily  in 
confidence  and  skill,  and  learning  practically  all  there 
was  to  be  learned  as  to  the  handling  of  a Gnome-engined 
Bleriot,  he  was  able  soon  to  fly  under  weather  con- 
ditions which  would  have  seemed  hopeless  to  a pilot 
of  less  experience ; while  engine  failure  and  other 
troubles,  which  overtook  him  frequently  on  these  long 
flights,  taught  him  to  alight  without  damaging  his 
machine  on  the  most  unpromising  ground. 

Now,  feeling  himself  at  last  competent,  he  obtained 
permission  to  figure  on  the  retired  list,  so  that  he  might 
take  part  in  the  aviation  races  which  were  then  being 
organised.  Of  these  great  contests  Lieut.  Conneau 
won  three  in  succession — the  Paris-Rome  Race,  in 
which  he  flew  928  miles  in  21  hours  10  minutes ; the 
European  Circuit,  in  which  he  flew  1,060  miles  in  a 
total  flying  time  of  24  hours  18  minutes ; and  the 
Circuit  of  Britain,  in  which  he  flew  1,006  miles  in  22  hours 
26  minutes.  Lieut.  Conneau’s  success,  which  appeared 
extraordinary,  and  his  skill  in  finding  his  way  across 
country,  which  seemed  abnormal,  were  due  as  a matter 
of  fact  to  his  assiduous  preparation,  and  to  a tempera- 
ment which,  even  under  the  heavy  strains  of  constant 


go 


LEARNING  TO  FLY 


flying,  saved  him  from  errors  of  judgment  or  ill- 
advised  decisions.  His  temperament  was,  indeed,  ideal 
for  a racing  airman.  He  was  quiet  and  collected,  with  a 
natural  tendency  to  resist  excitement  or  confusion. 
His  physique  was  admirable,  and  he  had  that  elasticity 
of  strength,  both  in  body  and  nerve,  which  are  invaluable 
to  a pilot  when  on  long  flights.  Also,  and  this  was 
of  importance,  Lieut.  Conneau  had  a natural  cheerful- 
ness of  disposition  which  carried  him  without  irritation 
or  despondency  through  those  ordeals  of  weather,  and 
of  mechanical  breakdowns  and  delays,  which  are  in- 
separable from  such  contests  as  those  in  which  he  was 
engaged. 

A contrast  to  Lieut.  Conneau,  both  in  temperament 
and  method,  was  his  rival  Jules  Vedrines — the  aviator 
who,  notably  in  the  Circuit  of  Britain,  flew  doggedly 
against  Lieut.  Conneau  from  stage  to  stage.  Vedrines, 
who  had  not  had  the  advantages  in  tuition  that  had 
been  enjoyed  by  Lieut.  Conneau,  nor  his  grounding  in 
technique,  was  nevertheless  a born  aviator  ; a man  of  a 
natural  and  exceptional  skill.  In  energy,  courage, 
and  determination  he  was  unexcelled  ; but  such  quali- 
ties, though  of  extreme  value  in  a long  and  trying 
contest,  were  marred  by  an  impetuosity  and  an 
excitability  which  Vedrines  could  not  master,  and  which 
more  than  once  cost  him  dear.  He  had  not,  besides, 
as  was  shown  in  the  Circuit  of  Britain,  that  skill  in 
steering  by  map  and  compass  which  aided  Lieut. 
Conneau  so  greatly  in  all  his  flying. 

A personality  of  unusual  interest  was  that  of  the 
late  Mr.  S.  F.  Cody — a man  of  a great  though  untutored 
imagination,  and  of  an  extraordinary  and  ceaseless 
energy.  A big  man,  and  one  whom  it  might  be  thought 
would  have  been  clumsy  in  the  handling  of  an  aero- 
plane, he  piloted  the  biplanes  of  his  own  construction 
with  a remarkable  skill.  He  flew  no  other,  of  course, 
and  this  was  greatly  to  his  advantage  in  actual  mani- 


A STUDY  OF  METHODS 


9* 


pulation.  The  great  pilots  who  have  excelled — one  may 
instance  again  Lieut.  Conneau — have  concentrated 
their  attention  as  a rule  on  one  type  of  machine,  learning 
all  there  is  to  be  learned  about  this  particular  craft, 
and  being  prepared  in  consequence,  through  their 
knowledge  both  of  its  capacities  and  weaknesses,  for 
any  contingency  (that  may  arise  in  flight.  Another 
instance  of  such  specialisation  was  provided  by  Mr. 
Gustave  Hamel.  M.  Bleriot — an  admirable  judge 
in  this  respect — singled  out  Mr.  Hamel,  while  this  young 
man  was  learning  to  fly  in  France,  as  an  aviator  of  quite 
unusual  promise ; and  his  prediction  was,  of  course, 
more  than  fulfilled.  Devoting  himself  exclusively  to 
the  monoplane,  Mr.  Hamel  became  a pilot  whose  per- 
fection of  control,  very  wonderful  to  witness,  was  marked 
strongly  by  his  own  individuality.  He  had  beautiful 
“ hands  ” — a precision  and  delicacy  on  the  controls 
which  marked  his  flying  from  that  of  all  others  ; while 
his  judgment  of  speed  and  distance,  which  was  remark- 
able, represented  natural  abilities  which  had  been 
improved  and  strengthened  by  his  constant  flying. 


CHAPTER  X 


CROSS-COUNTRY  FLYING 

When  a pupil  has  finished  his  flying  school  tests,  and 
has  received  his  certificate  from  the  Royal  Aero  Club, 
he  is  in  a stage  of  proficiency  which  means  that  he  has 
learned  to  control  an  aeroplane  when  above  an  aero- 
drome and  in  conditions  that  are  favourable,  and  that  he 
may  be  relied  on  to  make  no  elementary  mistakes.  But 
as  to  cross-country  flying,  with  its  greater  hazards, 
he  is  stil  a novice,  with  everything  to  learn.  And  so  it 
is  to  flights  from  point  to  point,  generally  between 
neighbouring  aerodromes,  that  he  next  devotes  him- 
self. 

Aviators  have  been  commiserated  with,  often,  on 
what  is  thought  to  be  the  monotony  of  a cross-country 
flight.  The  pilot,  raised  to  a lonely  height  above  the 
earth,  is  pictured  sitting  more  or  less  inertly  in  his  seat, 
with  nothing  to  do  but  retain  his  control  on  the  levers, 
and  look  out  occasionally  so  as  to  keep  upon  his  course. 
But  the  beginner,  when  he  first  attempts  cross-country 
flying,  will  have  an  impression  not  of  inactivity,  but  of 
the  necessity  to  be  constantly  on  the  alert.  He  will  be 
engrossed  completely  by  the  manipulation  of  his 
machine,  with  no  time  to  sit  in  idle  speculation,  or  to 
analyse  his  feelings  as  the  country  passes  away  below. 

When  preliminaries  on  the  ground  have  been  gone 
through,  and  the  pilot  is  in  the  air,  there  will  first  be 
a need  to  gain  a height  of  several  thousand  feet.  Alti- 
tude is  essential  in  cross-country  flying.  The  higher  a 
pilot  flies,  within  reason  and  having  regard  to  the 
92 


CROSS-COUNTRY  FLYING 


93 


state  of  the  atmosphere,  the  better  chance  will  he  have 
of  making  a safe  landing,  should  his  motor  fail  suddenly 
and  force  him  to  descend.  So  the  first  concern  is 
climbing — and  in  doing  so  the  pilot  must  remember  the 
teachings  of  his  instructor,  and  not  force  his  craft  on 
too  steep  or  rapid  an  ascent.  He  may  prefer,  in  his 
early  flights,  to  remain  above  the  aerodrome  while  he 
is  gaining  altitude,  watching  his  height  recorder  from 
moment  to  moment  so  as  to  note  his  progress  upward. 
He  will  be  occupied  also  with  his  engine,  listening  to 
its  rhythm  of  sound,  and  keeping  an  eye  on  the  indi- 
cator that  tells  him  how  many  revolutions  per  minute 
the  motor  is  actually  making,  and  which  will  warn  him 
at  once  should  it  begin  to  fail. 

Granted  his  motor  is  running  well,  a pilot  should  soon 
gain  altitude.  Then,  assuming  the  air  is  clear — as  it 
should  be  on  his  early  flights — he  will  note  some  land- 
mark, away  on  the  line  of  his  flight,  and  set  off  across 
country  towards  it.  Fixed  conveniently  in  front  of 
him  will  be  a map,  of  a kind  devised  specially  for  the 
use  of  aviators.  A pilot’s  view,  as  he  flies  high  above 
the  ground,  is  bird-like.  Landmarks  fail  to  attract 
his  attention,  at  this  altitude,  which  would  be  clearly 
seen  if  he  were  on  the  ground.  Hills,  for  example, 
unless  they  are  high,  are  so  dwarfed  as  he  looks  down 
on  them  that  they  scarcely  catch  his  eye.  What  is  done, 
by  the  designer  of  air  maps,  is  to  accentuate  such  de- 
tails of  a landscape  as  will  prove  conspicuous  when 
seen  from  above.  A river,  or  an  expanse  of  water,  is 
clearly  seen ; so  also  are  railways  and  main  roads ; 
while  factory  chimneys,  and  large  buildings  which 
stand  alone,  may  be  identified  from  a distance  when 
a pilot  is  in  flight.  So  on  an  airman’s  map,  made  to 
stand  out  by  various  colourings  in  a way  that  catches 
the  eye,  are  railways,  roads,  rivers,  lakes  and  woods, 
with  here  and  there  a factory  chimney  or  a church, 
should  these  be  in  a position  rendering  them  visible 


94 


LEARNING  TO  FLY 


easily  from  the  air.  That  such  maps  should  be  bold 
in  their  design,  and  free  from  a mass  of  small  details, 
is  very  necessary  when  it  is  remembered  that  the 
aviator,  passing  through  the  air  at  high  speeds,  has 
no  time  for  a leisurely  inspection  of  his  map. 

With  a good  map,  and  aided  when  necessary  by  the 
compass  that  is  placed  in  a position  so  that  he  can  see 
it  readily,  a pilot  has  no  difficulty  as  a rule,  once  he 
has  acquired  the  facility  that  comes  with  practice, 
in  steering  accurately  from  point  to  point,  even  when 
on  a long  flight.  On  a favourable  day,  when  the  land 
below  is  clearly  visible,  he  will  glance  ahead,  or  to  one 
side,  and  after  observing  some  landmark,  look  on  his 
map  to  identify  the  position  he  has  just  seen.  Under 
such  conditions  steering  is  easy,  and  the  compass  plays 
a subsidiary  part.  But  it  may  happen  that,  while  he 
is  on  a long  flight  and  at  a considerable  altitude,  the 
earth  below  may  be  obscured  by  clouds,  or  a low-lying 
mist,  and  all  landmarks  vanish  from  his  view.  Some- 
times too,  he  may  find  himself  flying  through  mist  and 
cloud,  with  all  signs  of  the  earth  gone  from  below. 
Whereupon,  robbed  for  awhile  of  any  direct  guidance, 
he  must  fly  by  aid  of  his  map  and  compass,  holding  his 
machine  on  its  compass  course,  and  noting  carefully 
the  needle  of  his  height-recorder,  so  that  he  is  sure 
of  maintaining  altitude.  A risk  exists  under  such 
conditions,  when  there  is  no  visible  object  by  which 
to  judge  a course,  that  an  airman  may  make  leeway, 
unconsciously,  under  the  pressure  of  a side-wind ; 
and  so  he  must  be  ready  to  note  carefully,  immediately 
that  a view  of  the  earth  is  vouchsafed  him,  whether 
he  has  actually  been  making  leeway,  either  to  one  hand 
or  the  other,  even  while  the  bow  of  his  machine  has 
been  held  on  its  compass  course.  There  is  a risk  also, 
when  a pilot  is  flying  in  fog  or  at  night,  that,  having  no 
visible  horizon  from  which  to  gauge  the  inclination 
of  his  craft,  it  may  assume  gradually  some  abnormal 


CROSS-GOUNTRY  FLYING 


95 


angle,  without  his  own  sensations  telling  him  what  is 
taking  place.  The  craft  may,  for  the  sake  of  illustration, 
incline  sideways,  imperceptibly  to  the  pilot,  till  it 
begins  to  side-slip.  But  science  can  meet  this  danger 
by  providing  inclinometers,  fitted  within  the  hull  so 
that  the  aviator  can  see  them  easily  ; and  by  means  of 
these  instruments,  which  are  illuminated  at  night, 
it  is  possible  for  a pilot  to  tell,  merely  by  a glance,  at 
what  angle  his  machine  is  moving  forward  through  the 
air — whether  it  is  up  or  down  at  the  bow,  or  whether  its 
position  laterally  is  normal. 

The  beginner,  on  his  first  cross-country  flight,  need 
not  be  troubled  by  such  intricacies.  He  is  flying,  one 
assumes,  on  a fine  day,  with  the  land  spread  clearly  below 
him.  So  as  he  moves  through  the  air,  listening  always 
to  the  hum  of  his  motor,  he  need  have  no  fear,  granted 
that  his  observation  is  ordinarily  keen,  of  losing  his 
way. 

Naturally,  being  a novice,  he  will  feel  the  responsibility 
of  his  position.  His  eyes  will  rove  constantly  from 
one  instrument  to  another ; as  indeed,  from  habit,  do 
those  of  a practised  flyer.  He  will  glance  at  the  height 
recorder ; then  at  the  engine  revolution  indicator ; 
then  at  the  dial  which  tells  him  what  his  speed  is 
relative  to  the  air.  There  is  a dial,  also,  showing  the 
pressure  in  his  petrol-tank  ; while  there  will  be  a clock 
on  his  dashboard  at  which  he  will  glance  occasionally, 
after  he  has  marked  some  position  away  on  the  land 
below,  so  as  to  determine  what  progress  he  is  making 
from  the  point  of  view  of  time. 

Besides  these  preoccupations,  and  the  ceaseless  even 
if  almost  unconscious  attention  that  he  must  pay  to 
his  engine,  there  is  the  need  to  bear  constantly  in  his 
mind’s  eye  the  lie  of  the  land.  Should  his  motor  fail 
suddenly,  or  something  happen  which  necessitates  an 
immediate  descent,  it  is  imperative  that  he  should  be 
able,  without  delay,  to  choose  from  the  ground  that 


LEARNING  TO  FLY 


96 

is  visible  below  him  some  field  or  open  space  that  will 
provide  a safe  landing-point.  And  this  is  easier  said 
than  done.  The  earth,  when  viewed  by  a airman  who 
looks  down  almost  directly  upon  it,  is  apt  to  be  deceptive 
as  to  its  contour.  A field  that  is  selected  say,  from  a 
height  of  several  thousand  feet,  may  not  prove — as 
the  aviator  nears  it  in  his  glide — to  be  at  all  the  haven 
he  imagined  it.  More  than  once,  seeking  to  alight  on 
a field  which  appeared  to  him,  as  he  was  high  above 
it,  to  be  level  as  a billiard  table,  a pilot  has  found, 
when  it  is  too  late,  that  the  ground  has  sloped  so  steeply 
that  his  machine,  after  landing,  has  run  on  down- 
hill and  ended  by  crashing  into  a fence  or  ditch. 

It  is  very  necessary  for  an  airman  to  learn  to  judge, 
by  its  appearance,  the  difference  between  an  expanse, 
say,  of  pasture  land,  or  a field  which  is  in  green  corn 
or  standing  hay.  It  has  happened  often  that  a pilot, 
descending  after  engine  failure  towards  what  he  has 
reckoned  a grass  field,  has  discovered — when  too  low 
to  change  his  landing-point — that  his  pasture  land  is 
actually  a field  of  green  corn  ; and  a landing  under 
such  conditions,  with  the  corn  binding  on  the  running- 
gear  of  the  machine,  may  end  in  the  aircraft  coming  to 
an  abrupt  halt,  and  then  pitching  forward  on  its  nose  ; 
with  a broken  propeller  and  perhaps  other  damages 
in  consequence. 

In  choosing  a landing  ground,  as  in  other  problems 
that  face  the  novice  in  cross-country  flying,  experience 
will  prove  his  safeguard.  He  will  learn  for  instance 
that  cattle  or  sheep,  if  they  can  be  discerned  below  in  a 
field,  go  to  show  that  this  field  is  one  of  pasture  and 
not  of  crops.  If  no  cattle  are  to  be  seen  in  a field,  and 
the  aviator  is  doubtful  about  it,  and  yet  if  it  happens 
to  be  the  only  suitable  one  he  can  locate,  then  he  may 
look  closely  at  the  gateway  which  leads  into  the 
field.  If,  in  this  gateway,  he  can  detect  such  scars 
or  markings  on  the  ground  as  are  caused  by  the  feet 


CROSS-COUNTRY  FLYING 


97 

of  cattle  as  they  walk  daily  in  and  out,  he  may  feel 
satisfied  the  field  is  one  of  pasture. 

When  cattle  or  sheep  are  seen  standing  in  a field 
so  that  they  face  in  the  same  direction,  this  may 
suggest  either  the  existence  of  a slope,  or  the  presence 
of  a strong  ground  wind  ; while  a stream  or  brook  at  the 
edge  of  a stretch  of  open  land,  or  a belt  of  woods,  may 
suggest  a sloping  of  the  ground. 

It  is  amusing  for  a pilot — or  it  was  so,  rather,  in  the 
days  when  few  aeroplanes  were  in  existence — to  note 
the  astonishment  which  his  descent,  made  quite  unex- 
pectedly perhaps  in  some  quiet  and  rural  country, 
will  occasion  amongst  the  inhabitants.  Sometimes, 
under  the  stress  of  such  an  excitement,  people  appear 
to  lose  for  the  time  being  their  power  of  coherent  speech. 
A pilot  in  a cross-country  contest,  not  being  sure  whether 
he  was  on  his  right  course,  decided  to  make  a landing 
and  ask  his  way.  He  noticed,  after  a while,  the  figure 
of  a man  in  a field  below.  Planing  down,  and  alighting 
in  the  field,  he  shouted  questions  to  this  man,  switching 
his  engine  off  and  on,  while  he  did  so,  in  order  that  his 
words,  and  those  of  the  other,  might  be  audible.  But 
the  man  in  the  field,  demoralised  by  the  advent  of  this 
being  from  the  air,  and  gazing  at  him  and  his  machine 
with  an  expression  of  blank  amazement,  was  unequal 
to  the  task  of  giving  even  the  simplest  directions. 
He  waved  his  arms,  it  is  true,  but  no  words  that  could 
be  understood  issued  from  his  lips.  The  pilot  repeated 
his  questions,  but  it  was  no  good.  The  man  waved 
and  mouthed,  and  rolled  his  eyes,  but  when  he  tried 
to  speak  intelligibly  he  could  not.  So  the  aviator, 
loath  to  waste  further  time,  accelerated  his  engine 
again  and  continued  his  flight. 

As  a contrast  to  this,  there  was  the  experience  of  a 
pilot  who,  after  a long  flight  from  England  to  the 
Continent,  landed  at  length  near  a small  village.  In 
the  next  field  to  that  in  which  he  alighted  there  was  a 

Q 


LEARNING  TO  FLY 


98 

labourer,  digging  patiently.  The  aviator  expected 
that  this  man  would  fling  down  his  spade  in  excitement, 
and  run  wildly  towards  the  aeroplane.  But  such  was 
not  the  case.  This  labourer,  a marvel  of  placidity  and 
unconcern,  merely  raised  his  head  slowly  and  looked 
across  at  the  aircraft,  and  then  went  on  with  his  digging. 

In  his  first  cross-country  flights,  being  concerned 
chiefly  as  to  the  manipulation  of  his  machine,  and 
having  so  many  things  to  think  of,  the  novice  may  feel 
tired  after  even  a short  journey  by  air.  His  chief 
sensation,  as  he  switches  off  his  engine  to  descend 
towards  the  aerodrome  he  sees  below  him,  will  be  one 
of  relief  that  he  has  escaped  engine  failure,  and  that 
he  has  been  able  to  find  his  way  from  point  to  point. 
The  joy  of  flight,  of  passing  swiftly  thousands  of  feet 
above  the  earth,  will  have  made  but  a small  impression 
upon  him — at  any  rate  consciously.  It  will  not  be  until 
the  handling  of  his  machine  becomes  less  laborious, 
and  he  has  time  to  accustom  himself  to  his  unique 
view-point,  and  the  strangeness  and  beauty  of  the  scene 
below  him,  that  the  novice  will  realise  some  of  the 
fascinations  of  aerial  travel ; fascinations  that  it  is 
difficult  to  describe.  The  sensation  of  having  thrown 
off  the  bonds  of  earth-bound  folk ; of  soaring  above 
the  noise  and  dust  of  highways  ; of  being  free  from  the 
obstructions  of  traffic  ; of  sweeping  forward  smoothly, 
swiftly,  and  serenely — the  land  stretching  below  in  an 
ever-changing  panorama,  with  the  drone  of  the  motor 
in  one’s  ears,  and  a wine-like  exhilaration  in  the  rush 
of  the  air  : these,  and  others  more  obscure,  are  among 
the  sensations  of  cross-country  flying. 


CHAPTER  XI 


AVIATION  AS  A PROFESSION 

Young  men,  and  parents  on  their  behalf,  are  seeking 
always  some  profession  which  will  yield  an  adequate 
return  for  the  enthusiasm  which  youth  lavishes  upon 
it.  Too  often,  though,  at  any  rate  in  the  past,  this 
search  for  a man’s  work  in  life  has  been  narrowed  into 
ruts  ; conducted  on  certain  set  lines  which,  though  they 
have  found  employment  for  the  beginner,  have  given 
him  no  scope  for  that  enthusiasm  with  which  he  will 
attack  the  first  tasks  presented  him.  Aviation, 
till  the  coming  of  the  war,  was  looked  at  askance 
by  parents  who  had  sons  on  their  hands.  Apart  from 
the  risks  of  flying,  which  appeared  to  them  ceaseless  and 
terrible,  the  actual  industry  of  building  aeroplanes, 
regarded  as  an  industry,  seemed  so  haphazard  and 
objectless  an  affair — so  much  like  playing  at  work — 
that  they  discouraged  any  wish  that  a youth  might 
show  to  enter  it.  Many  people,  these  people  of  intelli- 
gence, regarded  the  building  and  flying  of  aeroplanes 
as  being  no  more  than  a passing  phase,  and  a regret- 
table one,  which  it  was  hoped  men  would  soon  abandon, 
and  turn  their  attention  to  tasks  more  serious  and 
profitable.  But  that  was  before  aircraft  had  proved 
their  value  as  instruments  of  war.  Now  it  is  known 
that  aeroplanes  have  the  power,  granted  they  are 
supplied  in  sufficient  numbers,  of  altering  the  tenor  of 
a great  campaign,  both  by  land  and  sea ; and  that  in 
any  future  war  of  nations,  should  one  come,  a battle 
between  the  hostile  flying  fleets,  fought  to  determine 

99 


100 


LEARNING  TO  FLY 


the  command  of  the  air,  will  determine  also,  to  a very 
large  extent,  the  fortunes  of  armies  on  the  land  and 
navies  on  the  sea.  It  is  clear  indeed  that,  for  any 
great  nation  that  strives  to  maintain  its  place,  a power- 
ful air  fleet  has  become  a necessity  ; while  for  Britain, 
an  island  no  longer  from  the  military  point  of  view, 
seeing  that  we  must  face  seriously  the  question  of 
invasions  by  air,  there  is  a vital  need  to  strive  for 
command  of  the  air,  as  we  now  hold  command  of  the 
sea. 

The  building  up  of  our  air  fleet  will  be  an  arduous 
task,  needing  men,  money,  and  time  ; but  without  it  we 
cannot  be  secure.  Therefore  the  work  must  be  faced, 
the  men  and  the  money  forthcoming.  Aviation,  as 
an  industry,  must  prepare  for  years  of  strenuous  work. 
A great  air  service  must  be  created.  Machines  must 
be  designed  and  built  in  thousands  instead  of  hundreds, 
and  men  trained  to  fly  them.  Nor  is  this  all.  The 
aeroplane,  though  it  has  such  significance  as  a weapon 
of  war,  is  destined  primarily  and  eventually  to  be  an 
instrument  of  peace ; a machine  for  the  transport  by 
air  of  passengers,  mails,  and  goods,  at  speeds  greater 
than  will  be  feasible  by  land  or  water ; and  a craft 
also  for  the  use  of  travellers  and  tourists,  enabling  them 
to  make  such  journeys,  with  ease  and  pleasure,  as  will 
again  prove  impossible  by  land  or  sea.  So  aviation 
has  two  immense  tasks  ahead  of  it,  instead  of  one. 
Not  only  must  it  create,  by  years  of  patient  and 
determined  effort,  a flying  service  which  will  command 
the  air,  but  craft  must  be  designed  and  built  also  for 
the  mail,  goods,  and  passenger-carrying  services,  and 
to  meet  the  needs  of  the  aerial  tourist. 

This  new  task  that  has  been  given  to  men,  that  of 
designing,  building,  and  piloting  aircraft,  is  still  on  the 
eve  of  its  expansion.  The  opportunities  it  offers  to 
young  men — to  men  whose  minds  are  quick  to  grasp  a 
new  idea  and  who  have  the  powers  of  initiative  and 


AVIATION  AS  A PROFESSION 


IOI 


decision — are  almost  boundless.  Flying  will,  as  it 
develops,  revolutionise  the  world’s  system  of  transport  ; 
while  the  developments  even  of  the  immediate  future 
promise  to  be  so  great,  and  so  important,  that  it  is  not 
easy  to  visualise  them.  But  this  at  least  is  clear : 
now  is  the  time  for  newcomers  to  enter  the  world  of 
flight.  Aviation  needs  men,  is  calling  aloud  for  men  ; 
and  they  are  needed  for  many  kinds  of  work.  First, 
of  course,  should  be  placed  the  flying  services,  naval 
and  military,  to  join  which  during  the  war  men  have 
come  forward  so  admirably.  But  it  will  need,  in  the 
expansion  that  must  follow  this  campaign,  a steady 
and  a ceaseless  growth  in  numbers,  not  only  of  the  men 
who  handle  machines  in  flight,  but  of  those  who  serve 
the  squadrons  by  their  work  on  land,  and  who  build 
up  the  organisation  which  is  vital  to  success. 

For  skilled  aviators,  other  than  those  who  join  the 
services,  there  is  scope  for  remunerative  work.  A 
constant  demand  exists  for  men  who  will  test  and  fly 
in  their  trials  the  new  machines  that  are  built  by 
manufacturers  ; for  men  who  will  fly,  in  public  exhibi- 
tions, the  craft  that  are  used  at  the  various  aerodromes  ; 
and  for  men  who  will  qualify  as  instructors,  and  join 
the  flying  schools  which  are  already  in  existence,  or 
in  process  of  formation.  In  countries  oversea,  too, 
there  is  the  definite  promise  that  aircraft  will  be  needed, 
not  only  for  survey  work  over  wide  tracts  of  land,  and 
for  maintaining  communication  and  bearing  mails 
over  districts  where  land  travel  is  difficult,  but  also 
for  exploration  ; and  this  again  means  that  pilots 
will  be  required.  New  aerodromes  must  come  into 
existence  also ; not  only  to  act  as  alighting  points  for 
touring  craft,  but  to  provide  grounds  for  the  training 
of  pupils ; and  at  these  aerodromes  pilots  will  be 
needed. 

Of  other  opportunities,  apart  from  the  piloting  of 
aircraft'  there  are  many — though  it  is  desirable  for  a 


102 


LEARNING  TO  FLY 


man  to  learn  to  fly,  and  obtain  his  certificate  of  pro- 
ficiency, even  if  afterwards  he  does  not  intend  continu- 
ing as  a pilot.  The  practical  experience  he  gains,  while 
learning  actually  to  handle  an  aircraft  in  flight,  will 
prove  extremely  useful  to  him  subsequently,  even 
though  the  task  he  undertakes  is  one  that  keeps  him 
on  the  ground.  He  may  qualify,  for  instance,  for  a 
post  in  a aeroplane  factory  as  a designer  or  draughts- 
man ; or  he  may  specialise  in  aero-motors,  and  seek  a 
post  in  the  engine-shops.  At  the  aerodromes,  too, 
there  are  openings  which  present  themselves ; as,  for 
example,  in  the  management  of  a flying  school. 

It  has  been  shown  that  the  public  will  go  in  thous- 
ands to  see  sporting  contests  with  aeroplanes,  and  here 
is  another  field  for  organisation  and  effort ; while 
there  is  a constant  demand  for  men  of  ability  in  the 
executive  departments  of  firms  which  are  established 
already  in  the  industry,  and  are  expanding  steadily, 
or  in  those  which  are  now  being  formed,  or  are  joining 
aviation  from  day  to  day. 

The  industry  is  at  last  on  a footing  that  is  practical 
and  sound.  It  presents  a new  field  for  effort,  and  one 
that  is  unexploited  ; while  for  the  man  who  enters  it 
— and  this  should  be  the  attraction  for  youth — there 
are  occupations  as  fascinating  as  one’s  imagination 
could  depict.  But  one  thing  must  be  understood 
clearly.  Flying  is,  of  exact  sciences,  surely  the  most 
exact.  The  man  who  is  only  half-trained,  who  is  more 
or  less  slovenly  in  his  work,  who  will  not  bend  his  whole 
energies  to  his  task,  will  find  no  place  in  this  new 
industry.  A young  man  is  wasting  his  time,  if,  after 
deciding  to  enter  aviation,  he  acquires  knowledge 
that  is  no  more  than  haphazard.  He  who  contemplates 
aviation  as  a profession  must  set  himself  the  task  of 
learning  all  there  is  to  be  learned,  and  in  the  right  way. 

Individual  opportunities  and  circumstances  will, 
necessarily,  play  so  large  a part  in  the  steps  taken  by 


AVIATION  AS  A PROFESSION 


103 


a young  man — or  by  his  parents  on  his  behalf — to 
launch  him  on  a career  in  aviation  that  it  is  impossible, 
here,  to  do  more  than  generalise.  Certainly,  as  we 
have  said,  it  is  an  excellent  preliminary  to  learn  to 
fly  ; and  it  may  be  stated  also  that  it  is  now  possible  to 
place,  with  aviation  companies  of  repute,  premium 
pupils  who  will  undergo  instruction  extending  over  a 
period  of  three  years.  A youth  may,  also,  gain  his 
knowledge  of  the  industry  by  becoming  an  indentured 
apprentice. 

One  may  say,  as  a conclusion  to  this  chapter,  that 
a great,  new,  and  potential  industry  is  springing  up 
in  our  midst,  one  which  will  prove  to  be  equally  if  not 
more  important  and  far-reaching  than  the  British 
shipbuilding  industry,  and  one  which  will  employ 
thousands  of  skilled  engineers  and  artizans.  Ships  are 
limited  to  one  element,  the  water,  which  has  very 
definite  boundaries.  Aircraft,  too,  are  limited  to  one 
element,  the  air ; but  this  element  has  no  boundaries 
so  far  as  the  earth  is  concerned,  and  aircraft  will  be 
navigable  to  any  and  every  part  of  the  globe. 


CHAPTER  XII 


THE  FUTURE  OF  FLIGHT 

It  is  a hopeful  augury,  to  those  concerned  with  aviation, 
that  public  interest  in  flying  should  not  only  be  keen, 
but  should  be  growing.  In  the  early  days,  even  when 
aeroplanes  were  so  great  a novelty,  it  was  difficult  to 
induce  people  in  any  numbers  to  witness  a flying 
display.  The  first  meetings,  though  they  were 
organised  with  enthusiasm,  ended  as  a rule  with  a 
heavy  financial  loss ; and  this  fact  of  course,  when  it 
became  known,  had  a discouraging  influence  on  those 
v’ho  might,  had  these  early  meetings  proved  a success, 
have  been  willing  to  finance  aerodromes  and  the 
building  of  machines.  But  as  it  was,  business  men, 
who  are  quick  to  form  conclusions,  said  that  people 
would  never  be  induced  to  pay  to  see  aeroplanes  fly. 
But  here  they  failed  to  reckon  with  the  fact  that, 
though  public  interest  in  flying  has  been  of  very  slow 
growth,  yet  at  the  same  time  it  has  been  a steady  and 
continuous  growth.  From  month  to  month,  and  from 
year  to  year,  as  aeroplane  constructors  and  pilots  have 
continued  at  their  tasks,  overcoming  technical  diffi- 
culties and  personal  risks,  the  interest  of  ordinary 
people  has  grown  perceptibly.  Even  before  the  war 
— which  has  done  so  much  to  focus  attention  on 
flying — the  attitude  of  scepticism  and  apathy  had 
been  greatly  changed.  When  the  London  Aerodrome 
at  Hendon  was  established,  there  were  shrewd  men 
in  the  city,  men  who  are  ordinarily  very  sound  in 
their  conclusions,  who  declared  the  public  would  never 

104 


THE  FUTURE  OF  FLIGHT  105 

go  there  in  appreciable  numbers.  How  wrong  they 
were,  how  little  they  gauged  the  change  that  was  taking 
place  in  the  public  mind,  is  shown  by  the  fact  that,  on 
a popular  day  at  this  aerodrome,  as  many  as  60,000 
people  have  paid  for  admission. 

In  the  immediate  future,  as  in  the  immediate  past, 
aviation  will  be  concerned  largely  with  the  building 
of  naval  and  military  craft.  This  will,  so  to  say,  be 
the  foundation  of  its  development  in  other  directions. 
War  for  instance,  notably  in  the  fitting  of  craft  with 
duplicate  power-plants,  will  provide  data  that  is  in- 
valuable in  the  building  of  commercial  craft,  and  in 
machines  also  for  the  use  of  the  tourist.  In  aerial 
touring  there  lies  an  important  field  for  the  develop- 
ment of  aircraft — one  which  may  serve  to  bridge  the 
gap  between  a relatively  small,  purely  pleasure-type 
machine,  and  a craft  which  has  utility  in  the  fields  of 
commerce.  The  motor-car  provides  an  enjoyable 
means  of  travelling  from  place  to  place ; but  in  the 
aeroplane,  once  it  is  airworthy,  reliable,  and  comfort- 
able, the  tourist  has  a vehicle  which  is  distinctly  more 
pleasurable  and  exhilarating.  The  day  was  dawning 
before  the  war,  and  will  now  be  hastened,  when, 
garaging  his  aircraft  at  the  London  Aerodrome  as  a 
convenient  starting-point,  an  aerial  traveller  will  tour 
regularly  by  air,  using  his  flying  machine  as  he  would 
a motor.  Already,  dotted  about  England,  are  aero- 
dromes he  may  use  as  halting-points  on  his  flight,  and 
at  which  he  can  house  his  machine  and  secure  the 
attention  of  mechanics ; and  the  number  of  these 
grounds  should  grow  rapidly  in  the  future. 

In  the  aeroplane  for  the  tourist,  for  the  man  who 
buys  a machine  and  flies  for  his  own  pleasure,  it  is 
necessary  to  combine  comfort  and  safety.  As  regards 
comfort,  though  much  remains  to  be  done  in  the  perfec- 
tion of  detail,  the  occupants  of  a machine  are  now  more 
studied  than  they  were  in  the  pioneer  days.  Then  a 


io6 


LEARNING  TO  FLY 


pilot  sat  out  on  a crude  seat,  exposed  fully  to  the  rush 
of  wind  as  a machine  moved  through  the  air.  Now  he 
is  placed  within  a covered-in  hull,  a screen  to  protect 
him  from  the  wind.  From  this  stage,  as  was  the  case 
with  the  motor-car,  rapid  progress  should  be  made  in  a 
provision  of  comfort. 

When  touring  by  air  under  favourable  conditions, 
there  should  be  no  more  risk  with  an  aircraft  than 
with  a motor-car.  One  of  the  most  frequent  causes  of 
accident,  as  we  have  shown,  has  been  the  structural 
weakness  of  a machine.  Now,  with  the  experience  of 
the  war  on  which  to  draw,  and  with  many  clever 
brains  focussed  on  the  development  of  the  industry, 
this  risk  may  be  regarded  as  almost  non-existent ; 
as  negligible  a factor  as  it  is  possible  to  make  it, 
remembering  that  aircraft,  like  other  mechanism,  have 
to  be  built  by  human  hands. 

Another  risk,  that  of  engine  failure,  may,  as  we  have 
explained,  be  eliminated  by  the  use  of  more  than  one 
motor.  In  the  application  of  such  systems  there  is 
still  much  to  be  learned ; but  the  obstacles  are  not 
insuperable.  One  advantage  that  can  be  offered  the 
aerial  tourist,  reckoning  him  as  a pilot  of  no  more  than 
average  skill,  who  needs  all  the  aid  that  science  can 
give  him,  is  that  he  can  obtain  a machine  which,  owing 
to  its  automatic  stability,  requires  merely  to  be  taken 
into  the  air  and  brought  to  earth  again,  and  which  will 
practically  fly  itself,  once  it  is  aloft. 

One  of  the  needs  with  a touring  machine,  to  which 
makers  must  devote  their  attention,  is  that  it  should 
be  able  to  leave  the  ground  quickly  in  its  ascent,  and 
so  permit  its  pilot  to  rise  even  from  a small  starting 
ground.  And  it  is  equally  necessary  that,  on  occasion, 
a machine  should  be  able  to  alight  safely,  and  at  a 
slow  speed,  in  quite  a small  field.  An  aviator  who  had 
given  up  aviation  temporarily,  after  a long  spell  of 
cross-country  flying,  was  asked  one  day  when  he  was 


THE  FUTURE  OF  FLIGHT 


107 


going  to  fly  again.  “ I shan’t  do  so,”  he  said,  " till  I 
can  buy  a machine  with  which  I can  alight  in  my  own 
garden.” 

Already  there  are  craft  which,  provided  high 
speeds  are  not  expected  of  them,  and  they  are  given 
ample  plane-surface,  will  alight  at  quite  a moderate 
pace  ; but  in  the  future,  by  the  use  of  machines  which 
have  the  power  of  increasing  or  reducing  their  wing- 
surfaces  while  in  flight,  it  should  be  possible  to  descend 
in  a space  no  larger,  say,  than  a garden.  In  the 
construction  of  variable-surface  machines,  technical 
problems  need  to  be  faced  which  are  unusually  difficult. 
The  theory  with  such  craft  is  that  their  sustaining 
planes,  either  by  a telescopic  system,  or  by  some  process 
of  reefing,  are  built  so  that  they  can  be  expanded  or 
contracted  at  the  will  of  the  pilot.  Thus  in  rising, 
when  a machine  is  required  to  ascend  with  a minimum 
run  forward  across  the  ground,  a large  area  of  lifting 
surface  would  be  exposed  ; and  at  the  moment  of 
alighting,  also,  when  it  was  desired  that  a machine 
should  make  its  contact  with  the  ground  at  the  slowest 
possible  speed,  a maximum  of  plane  surface  would  be 
employed.  But  when  aloft,  and  in  full  flight,  the  pilot 
would  be  able  if  he  so  desired  to  reduce  the  area  of 
his  lifting  surface,  and  so  increase  materially  his  speed. 
With  a machine  of  this  type,  when  perfected,  it  should 
be  possible  to  rise  quickly,  and  descend  slowly,  and  yet 
at  the  same  time,  when  well  aloft,  attain  a high  speed 
with  moderate  engine-power. 

The  commercial  possibilities  of  aviation  are  vast 
and  far-reaching  : not  for  nothing,  after  centuries  of 
striving,  have  men  conquered  the  air.  The  aeroplane 
is  destined,  by  the  facilities  it  offers  for  communication 
between  nations,  to  play  a vital  part  in  the  growth  of 
civilisation.  The  construction  and  perfection  of  a 
commercial  aeroplane,  a machine  which  can  be  used 
for  the  transport  of  passengers,  mails,  and  goods, 


io8 


LEARNING  TO  FLY 


represents  largely  a question  of  time  and  of  money. 
Technical  problems  still  need  to  be  solved.  But  none 
of  them  are  insurmountable . All  should  be  overcome  by 
an  expenditure  of  money  and  in  the  process  of  time — 
granted  of  course  that  research  is  directed  upon  the 
right  lines.  A sufficient  amount  of  money  for  experi- 
mental work,  which  in  aviation  is  very  costly,  was  one 
of  the  prime  difficulties  before  the  war.  Capitalists 
were  chary  of  aviation  ; they  had  no  faith  in  it.  Now, 
after  the  work  aircraft  have  done  in  war,  and  with 
the  need  to  provide  the  world  with  air  fleets,  the 
industry  need  live  no  longer  from  hand  to  mouth. 
There  should  be  funds  available  for  experiments  with 
commercial-type  aeroplanes. 

As  to  the  factor  of  time,  this  depends  largely  on  the 
facilities  that  are  obtained  by  the  industry — apart 
from  its  work  on  naval  and  military  craft — for  test 
work  with  other  machines.  But  in  five  years’  time, 
granted  progress  continues  on  the  lines  now  promised, 
we  should  have  a service  of  passenger  aeroplanes,  each 
carrying  fifty  or  more  people,  flying  daily  between 
London,  the  Midlands,  and  the  North;  while  in  ten 
years’  time  it  should  be  possible  to  cross  the  Atlantic, 
from  London  to  New  York,  by  means  of  a regular 
service  of  aerial  craft. 

The  commercial  aeroplane,  even  when  perfected, 
would  not  be  likely  to  compete  successfully  with  other 
means  of  transit  unless  it  could  offer  the  advantages  of 
a greater  speed.  Here,  indeed,  in  the  speeds  they  will 
attain,  lies  the  future  of  aircraft.  The  air  will  be  our 
highway  because,  in  the  air,  speeds  will  be  reached  that 
are  impossible  on  land  or  sea.  As  civilisation  extends 
— this  is  of  course  a truism — there  grows  with  it  a need 
for  speedier  travel ; and  we  have  seen  land  and  sea 
transit  striving  to  meet  this  demand.  But  both  have 
reached,  or  are  rapidly  reaching,  a limit  of  speed — 
a limit  imposed  by  the  need  to  carry  their  passengers 


THE  FUTURE  OF  FLIGHT  109 

and  goods  on  a remunerative  basis.  On  the  sea,  by- 
burning  excessive  quantities  of  coal,  it  is  possible  to 
add  a few  knots  to  the  speed  of  a great  liner.  But 
then  the  problem  becomes  one  of  profit  and  loss  ; while 
with  trains — so  nearly  under  existing  conditions  have 
they  reached  a limit  of  speed — that  a difficulty  is 
experienced,  even  on  long  runs,  and  under  favourable 
circumstances,  in  saving  a minute  here  and  there.  It 
is  not  of  course  to  be  assumed,  when  the  spur  of  a 
greater  necessity  comes,  that  land  and  sea  transit  will 
fail  altogether  to  increase  their  existing  speeds.  There 
is  the  mono-rail  system  of  land  traction,  electrically  pro* 
pelled,  which  has  yet  to  be  tested  in  a practical  way ; 
while  on  the  sea,  perhaps,  under  pressure  of  com- 
petition, and  with  an  increasing  demand  for  greater 
speeds,  it  may  be  possible  to  adapt  with  advantage, 
even  on  large  craft,  some  principle  of  the  hydro- 
plane. 

But  by  way  of  the  air,  granted  even  a speeding-up 
on  land  and  sea,  should  go  the  high-speed  traffic  of  the 
future.  By  a greater  efficiency  in  lifting  surfaces  and 
by  reductions  in  the  resistance  a craft  offers  to  its  own 
passage  through  the  air  ; by  the  provision  of  systems 
which  will  permit  a pilot  to  reduce  plane-area  when  his 
machine  has  gained  altitude  and  he  desires  a max- 
imum speed;  by  the  equipping  of  craft  with  motors 
developing  thousands  of  horse-power  for  a very  low 
weight — by  such  means,  and  by  a general  improvement 
in  design,  it  should  be  possible,  eventually,  to  attain 
flying  speeds  of  150,  200,  and  even  250  miles  an  hour. 
From  London  to  New  York  by  air  liner,  in  less  than 
twenty  hours  ; such,  for  instance,  should  be  an  attain- 
ment of  the  future. 

It  seems  probable,  in  the  development  of  the  com- 
mercial aeroplane,  we  shall  have  machines  for  touring 
and  for  pleasure  flights — craft  not  of  large  size  but  in 
which  efforts  are  made  to  obtain  a greater  reliability 


no 


LEARNING  TO  FLY 


and  comfort.  Then  it  appears  likely  that  aircraft 
may  reach  a practical  use  as  carriers  of  mails  and  of 
light  express  goods  ; first  of  all  in  localities,  and  under 
conditions,  which  favour  specially  an  aerial  transit. 
And  from  this  phase  we  should  move  to  the  passenger- 
carrying craft ; to  the  days  when  we  shall  be  able  to 
spend  a week-end  in  New  York,  as  readily  as  it  has  been 
the  habit  to  do  in  Paris  ; when  we  shall  be  able  to  reach 
any  part  of  the  world  in  a journey  by  air  lasting,  say,  a 
week  or  ten  days.  Then,  as  a recompense  for  the  lives 
that  have  been  lost,  and  for  a conquest  that  has  been 
so  dearly  won,  the  world  will  enter  upon  an  age  of 
aerial  transit — the  age  when  frontiers  and  seas  will  act 
as  barriers  no  longer,  when  journeys  that  now  last  weeks 
will  be  reduced  to  days,  and  those  of  days  to  hours ; 
when  first  of  all  Europe,  and  then  the  world,  will  be 
linked  by  airway. 


THE  END 


INDEX 


Aerodromes,  their  evolution, 

14 

Age,  its  relation  to  flying,  11 
Alighting,  operation  of,  51 

Biplanes  and  tuition,  the 
“ pusher  " type,  16 
Bleriot,  Louis,  study  of  his 
methods  as  a pilot,  84 

Certificate  of  proficiency, 
tests  for,  54 
Cody,  S.  F.,  90 

Commercial  possibilities  of 
aviation,  107 

Conneau,  Lieut.  J.  (“  Beau- 
mont”), 87 

Constructional  weakness  in 
aeroplanes,  risks  of,  60 
Controllability  of  aeroplanes, 
problems  of,  33 

Cross-country  flying,  pupils' 
first  experiences,  92 

Dual-engine  machines,  79 

Engine  failure,  risks  of,  65 
Enjoyment  of  learning  to  fly,  12 

Farman,  Henri,  pioneer  work 
as  an  aviator,  86 
Fees  for  tuition,  13 
First  flights,  pupil  as  passenger, 
39 

Health  and  flying,  10 
Human  factor  in  relation  to 
accidents,  71 

Improvements  in  aircraft  which 
spell  safety,  76 

Industry  of  aviation,  its  ex- 
pansion, 100 

Instructors,  qualifications  neces- 
sary, 15 


Latham,  Hubert,  tempera- 
mental study,  86 
Learning  to  fly  not  dangerous, 
11 

Manual  dexterity,  need  of,  12 

Opportunities  for  the  new- 
comer in  aviation,  101 

“ Rolling  ” (handling  a machine 
on  the  ground),  43 

School  aeroplanes,  types  of,  16 

aeroplanes,  need  for  ample 

supply,  15 

biplane,  its  controls,  34 

Schools,  modern,  their  conveni- 
ences, 18  * 

Sensations  of  flight,  41 
Speed  in  its  relation  to  flying,  31 
Speed,  promise  of  the  future,  109 
Straight  flights,  44 
Sustaining  planes,  their  opera- 
tion, 32 

Temperament,  the  ideal  for 
flying,  22 

Time  required  in  learning  to 
fly,  19 

Touring  by  air,  105 
Turning  in  the  air,  46 

Vedrines,  Jules,  his  piloting, 
90 

Vol-plane,  the,  48 

Weather,  its  effect  on  tuition, 
38 

Wind  fluctuation,  dangers  of, 
62 

flying,  80 

Wrights,  Wilbur  and  Orville,  82 


in 


BIBLIOGRAPHY 


Some  books  selected  as  being  likely  to  appeal  to  a man , without  technical 
knowledge , who  contemplates  learning  to  fly. 

" THE  AIRMAN/’  by  Captain  C.  Mellor,  R.E.  Published  by 
Mr.  John  Lane,  the  Bodley  Head,  London.  (3s.  6d.) 

Describes  the  author’s  experiences,  in  France,  while  obtaining 
a brevet  on  a Maurice  Farman  biplane. 

" THE  ESSAYS  OF  AN  AVIATOR.”  Obtainable  from  “ Aero-  / 
nautics,”  170,  Fleet  Street,  London,  E.C.  (2s.  6d.) 

A series  of  admirable  papers,  written  by  a pilot  and  from  a pilot’s 
point  of  view. 

“ THE  AERONAUTICAL  CLASSICS.”  A series  of  booklets 
issued  at  is.  each  by  the  Aeronautical  Society,  11,  Adam 
Street,  Adelphi,  London,  W.C. 

Describe  authoritatively,  and  very  interestingly,  the  work  of 
great  pioneers. 

“ FLIGHT  WITHOUT  FORMULAE,”  by  Commandant  Duchene, 
of  the  French  Genie  (translated  from  the  French  by  John 
H.  Ledeboer.  Published  by  Longmans,  Green  & Co.,  39, 
Paternoster  Row,  E.C.  (7s.  6d.) 

Instructive  discussions,  clearly  expressed,  on  the  mechanics  of 
the  aeroplane. 

“/PRINCIPLES  OF  FLIGHT,”  by  A.  E.  Berriman.  Obtainable 
from  “ Flight  ” Offices,  St.  Martin's  Lane,  London,  W.C.  (2s.) 

" AERO  ENGINES,”  by  G.  A.  Burls.  Published  by  Charles 
Griffen  & Co.,  12,  Exeter  Street,  Strand,  London,  W.C. 

(8s.  6d.). 


Authors’  Note. — The  above  list  does  not,  of  course,  pretend  to 
be  in  any  way  complete.  It  Js  designed  merely  to  act  as  a 
suggestion  for  the  novice. — C.  G.-W.,  H.  H. 


£THE  LONDON  AND  NORWICH  PRESS  LIMITED,  LONDON  AND  NORWICH,  ENGLAND 


